#about to leave and i have no more women mentors left on campus not even a full year into my new job during the time in my life where ihave m

[pepprs]

also btw my favorite professor is leavi ng next week and i thougut i was gonna get to say goodbye to her on her last day (next monday) and i put off reaching out to her and buying her a present and everything bc it is um. Too painful to accept that she’s about to leave and i put it off bc i couldn’t bear it. but i finally emailed her today and she won’t be available on monday after all she’s only available tomorrow and i don’t have a present or anythi ng for her and im not emotionally ready to say goodbye like im taking off friday and i was gonna use the three day weekend to prep and brace myself and now i have to do it tomorrow and i don’t have anything to give her and can’t go o it and buy anything bc i can’t drive and i have therapy and even if i could get a ride the stores will be closed by the time im done bc we had to schedule it late today. i can’t fucking take itttttt

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Why Didn't Peter Mentor Gwen?

Back at it again with my biweekly anti-Peter B hate post :) 💗 I'm full of rage - MEDIUM length post

If Peter wanted to be a mentor so badly I don't understand why he didn't just mentor Gwen.

Like... Logically speaking there had to be a time where Gwen DIDN'T know Hobie yet and was staying on Campus.

And we already know he was in the Society when she got there - cause he was there to see Gabbie die.

Like he's always talking about wanting to be a mentor.

And then Gwen pulls up to HQ homeless, emotionally wrecked, and in need of a mentor and suddenly he's like 'You got this one Jess 😃'

'I know I literally know Gwen almost as much as I know Miles and I know you're 8 1/2 months pregnant but you got this one Jess'

Like I don't understand 😭😭 the WHOLE movie that's all he talks about wanting to be a mentor so so badly and how sad it makes him that he can't be a Good Mentor

meanwhile Gwen is literally standing there homeless in need of a mentor ten thousand times more than Miles

Why not just mentor her????? She's literally right there

Like.... Do you only wanna mentor Miles or..

And I've heard people say he couldn't have mentored or housed her because he just had MayDay and like-

Bullshit.

Cause there are hundreds of millions of families that somehow can raise a baby and a teenager at the same time.

That's not even a difficult feat. That's not even uncommon???? 😭 Chances are a lot of our parents did the exact same thing - looking after a baby and a fairly independent teenager isn't that bizarre

And also - Peter can go home and put down MayDay.

Jessica can't go home and take off her pregnant stomach. If anything, Jessica would be the one MORE busy and more in needing of rest.

Yet Peter still left it to her.

But sure let Peter walk around in a robe while Jessica gotta play backup for Miguel - must black women do everything in this house.

And even if we say that Jessica is there because she wants to be, which she probably is, EVENTUALLY she's gonna have to take off to have her baby. That's inevitable.

So... What were they gonna do with Gwen then???? Wouldn't it make sense to give it to Peter, knowing Jess is probably gonna be on a short or extended leave soon....

And then there's the excuse that Gwen might not have wanted Peter as a mentor, which ????? Cause what makes you think she'd want a random stranger to be her mentor or a random stranger to try to befriend her or house her.

Gwen won't even talk to her own friends. Chances are Hobie had to do MONUMENTAL work to get Gwen to open up.

So it's not like Gwen just chose to run to people who weren't Peter. Jessica and Hobie most likely would have had to approach Gwen purposefully to build those relationships with her.

Which Peter could have done as well. But he didn't.

Jessica wasn't even running and eager to mentor Gwen, but she still did her best and gave it her all.

Meanwhile Peter B is crying and whining the whole movie about how much he missed Miles and he wants to be a good mentor and father

Meanwhile there is a homeless teenager he personally knows in need of a mentor and he pretends he does not see it

Okay dude. Sure. You totally wanna be a mentor for the purpose of helping kids. Yeah sure, you totally aren't doing this for your own self validation bro.

I even heard someone say 'Yeah well Peter only knew Gwen one day at this point-'

umm umm umm

THE SAME IS TRUE FOR MILES??!!! Which makes this WEIRDER!!!

He's known Gwen and Miles for about the same time, and have shared a lot of the same experiences together but Peter only seems to be interested in mentoring or helping out Miles.

Is that not bizarre?????

Like realistically speaking - Hobie did not meet Gwen day one. Or maybe even week one.

There had to be period in time where - at first - only Miguel, Jess, and Lyla know about Gwen.

And we see that Peter and Miguel are together a lot -or comfortable around each other. So it's not like Peter wouldn't know that Gwen is there now.

So like ??????

Peter were the fuck were you between the dates of Gwen arriving and Hobie meeting her?

That shit not adding up.

Peter wants to be father of the year with his daughter but he be having his daughter in the face of Miguel, who lost his own daughter, and be ignoring Gwen who lost her own father.

Like, dude read the mfing room!!!!

If Peter really wanted to be a mentor he would've begged Miguel to help Gwen.

Instead he wanna monologue about his goddamn baby. Don't nobody wanna hear about your baby.

Matter of fact Hobie should adopt your baby too. Give him MayDay. You don't deserve no children. Actually Hobie runs a foster home now sorry. Rename her to MayDay Brown. It sounds better anyway.

Buti will never understand it

Like how the whole movie he's crying about being a good mentor and letting down Miles meanwhile I'm here like .. gwen,.. gwens crying peter. turn around shes literally about to cry maybe you should Do Something

ESPECIALLY since Gwen needs EMOTIONAL mentoring, not TECHNICAL mentoring.

She's been Spiderwoman years. She does not need Jessica's mentoring style. She needs someone who is going to make an effort to connect with her emotionally despite her difficulties opening up.

But I guess that someone wasn't Peter!!!!!

'I wanna be a good mentor'

Well you're not trying hard enough. You might not even be trying at all. What is Miguel paying you for. He better not be paying you 😭😭

Idk what the hell they're gonna do with Peter in BTSV cause idc what he says or does every time he comes on screen im gonna be looking at him like

'die. sacrifice yourself. dive under the rubble. save gwens life. your only value to me is the relief i will feel seeing you die.'

You don't know how much it bothers me knowing that I have to rewatch this series with him as a character in it. It's like having a shit stain on your wedding dress.

Mentor. Mentor my ass. Hobie is a better mentor to Gwen AND Miles. The dude who speaks in rhymes and riddles can somehow open Gwens Pandora's box of emotional trauma meanwhile Peter b Parker 'forgets' he's wearing a tracking watch.

I am on a war path against this man. I will not be silenced

[wonderofwillows2]

The Training Part 1

There were no young men who came to the resort without a sponsor. Be it a wife, a girlfriend, a sister, mother, or aunt. No young man was allowed there without a sponsor and none were allowed without meeting certain very strict criterion. Some were specific and fit into neat categories that were known as the “basic minima of entry”. For the first basic minimum no more than one man could be there for every eight women which meant there was almost always a waiting list of sponsored young men up to a month. The second was that the young man be between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, though those over twenty were rarely taken. The third was aforementioned sponsorship and generally at least two sponsors known to the group were required though some more respected members of the group could bring another. The fourth was that the young man must be circumcised prior to getting to resort with enough time to heal and be ready for intercourse.

There were also the three more abstract criterion. The first of these was that a young man must be physically attractive both in the body and face and have hygiene befitting his qualities. He was to be judged by a panel and if they found his physical features attractive enough he could join, if he was deemed near enough, he would be given three months to correct whatever issue as best he could. Allowances were made for small things like acne that a young man might not perfectly control. Most often it was simply that a young man was expected to become more fit or to simply improves his grooming. There were generally few who fell into this category.

The second was that the young man should be of some intelligence, he had be able to understand instructions given and, he had to understand the deeper relevance of them. He would have to be able to understand the lessons and mantras repeated on a daily basis. There would be plenty to learn for those impressionable young men who were taken there and it was important to know the lessons would become ingrained though the indoctrination those young men would receive. Few young men who left would have said that it did not leave an impression on them.

The third was personality and more broadly speaking social skills. The young men had to posses those requisite social skills to at least avoid being boring to the women of the resort and to be able to pick up some minimum of the women’s emotions and desires. Of course this was not a hard thresh hold as young men were to be further educated in these skills. Indeed most of the women there were eager to teach the men who came there how to further anticipate a woman’s needs. Some even took it to the point of being like a sport or challenge. To see how much they could spur a young man to further development in this category. They would show off to one another how well their charges and students could read their body language and the inflections of their voices and how thoroughly and eagerly they responded.

The brings us to to Victor, a handsome young man of Russian-Canadian origin who lived Toronto where his father and mother had settled and become firmly middle class. He was tall, about 6’1” but perhaps just a bit more with a lithe frame and with some musculature though he was by no means one gifted to be a true athlete. His features were fine and sharp with a pale complexion and fine blond hair. He had a well sculpted face and though not at all feminine he was not what one would call overly masculine. He turned eighteen early in his senior year and this had bought him some initial popularity as he could buy alcohol but that soon waned. He had always been shy and so it surprised him one day when hi sister called him in the first week of October from university to tell him she had helped to arrange a surprise and that a friend of his, Priya, had set up the very idea. He was to travel with them in one week, to see small resort several hours north.

Priya and he had been friends since they met eight years prior when she came to his elementary school. She was outspoken and intelligent and the two had bonded immediately though they contrasted in many ways. Physically she was petite and feminine in every way with no androgyny to speak of. Her complexion a fine color like that of cinnamon. She was outspoken and vigorous about stating her opinions and able to talk to anyone with ease I contrast to Victor who was sometimes shy. Yet they were able to form a bond in terms of being older than their respective classmates, though not by much, as well as being from immigrant families and speaking different languages.

The idea came as a shock to Victor but he was certainly open to it. His sister, Any, had always been supportive of her younger brother and despite an age difference of four years he always felt that he could come to her for advice in comfort and ease. One would be hard pressed not to assume they were related by looking at them as they shared some physical features though Anna was the more practical and wished to be a researcher while victor pursued softer studies. He hoped one day to be a human rights lawyer and Anna was the only one in full support of this. His father and mother thought he ought to go for the highest paid position and not pursue lofty ambitions. After all this is how they had overcome their initial poverty.

The week passed an Victor was excited to see his older sister once more. He had asked Priya about the details of the trip though she had been reluctant to share too much. She had told he conservative parents she was going with a girlfriend and suggested that he find a suitable person to use as an alibi as well. It would be fun she was sure but she did not want to arouse suspicions in their school nor to raise alarms about the seemingly odd group going. Since unattached straight men are usually not invited on trips with women whom they are not seeing intimately. Nor was it at all usual that his older sister was going. However none of them were bothered by this, all of them knew each other too well for that. Sometimes the assumptions of others are off base. In this case though expectations would indeed conflict with reality.

When Friday night of the next weekend came Victor hugged his parents goodbye before descending the steps of the house to the waiting car below. Priya and his friend Paul were in front and Victor got in the back with his small backpack. His parents warned him to be aware of bears and be careful one last time and then they waved the small group off. It was not three blocks before they dropped off Paul and changed the GPS to the coordinates of his sister’s school. It would be an hour before they even got there and then another three to the cabin. It would be a remote place for certain and cold this time of year, there would likely be frost. Eventually they reached the apartment near his sister’s campus. The sun was beginning to set and the sky had turned a variety of beautiful and fiery colors. They would soon be in wild lands. They called and waited and in a few minutes Anna appeared closing the door with grace and nearly bounding down the steps with a smile on her pale face. She dropped her bag into the trunk and then took her place in the back seat. Pleasantries were exchanged and short laughs were had.

The group set off in the now near darkness. Victor was having one of the most pleasant times that he could remember as they chatted in the car and share old memories. Priya and Anna having many to share themselves with Anna being like an older sister to Priya as well in many ways. Priya was the oldest in her house too and of course was often in need of advice when she was younger, about boys, makeup, or the life in Canada her parents were reticent to teach her off. They knew each other well and their friendship had grown from a the role of mentor and student to a more genuine and equal footing.

It was past nine when they arrived at side road leading down a path which terminated in a large packed earth parking lot and a small set of beautiful and carefully made wooden buildings with a set of four small cabins. Priya steered the care to the left into the parking lot and then up to the main building. Stopping the car she turns the keys and stops the engine.

“I’ll just be a few minutes, I need to check us in and get the keys before we can go the cabin” Priya anounced with a small smile before opening the door and departing into the cold night.

“So in all seriousness, Anna, what prompted this trip?” Asked victor.

“In all seriousness I just felt the need to get away. We just had a round of exams and I wanted to let off some stress and see people I knew well. We all need comfort.

“That is true. I actually came along partly to see you, we haven’t talked in a while and I am sorry for that.”

“It’s ok, I am sure you are busy at school. Have you met any girls?”

“I know them all at this point I think. I really only talk to Priya.”

“Do you still mostly hang out with Paul, Kendrick, and Mit?”

“For the most part yes.”

“How are things with you and Vanessa, are you still fighting?”

“No, we patched...”

The car door opens interrupting and Priya returns with the keys.

“I’m back it’s cabin number four.” She presents the cabin key before starting the car and then engaging it. She backs out of the parking space and drive parallel to large main building before making a left and then a right and parking in front of raised wooden cabin with small windows and a propane tank beside it.

“We’re here she announces and turns off the car. The group exits, each stretching upon their immediate exit. Priya and Victor walk around to the trunk while Anna grabs her articles from the seat beside her in the rear of the car. Finished with unloading the group climbs the stairs and approaches a beautifully finished door made of thick planks of wood.

“I can’t believe we got this for such a price” Victor muses.

Priya unlocks the door and they enter the cabin. It is a cozy space but more than suitable for four and lightly decorated with the beauty and finish of the construction materials playing the main role in the aesthetic. There is a small wood stove on one side and s small gas stove next to it giving choice to the renters. On each side of the main room are two sets of beds with bunk pressed against the wall on the right where the wood stove allows more room. Past the gas stove on the left is a small bathroom with a toilet sink and shower. The general amenities of civilization all seem present in the small retreat. It’s warm inside as the heat was left on for them. They pick their beds and with the ample choice there is no difficulty, the women choose the beds on the left and Victor picks the right. They each take their turns bathing and changing into night clothes and Priya turns up the heat to allow for the light bedclothes she packed.

A bottle of wine is opened and shared among them while they talk of old times and laugh while reminiscing. They talk about the time Priya developed a deep crush on her math teacher. They talk about Victor’s infatuation with skateboarding when he was younger and his broken ankle. They finish with more pleasant stories as they finish the bottle and then brush their teeth and turn in to sleep. They all sleep soundly after being thoroughly exhausted by the day and the enjoyment of each other’s company. They awake in the morning and Priya announced that there is a free breakfast the first day. So they dress in the bathroom and depart to the main building, walking down the bumpy earthen path and ascend the flight of stairs opening the main door. A young woman in her twenties with a plump frame attends the desk. Priya talks to her and hands her some papers and the young woman directs them to the left hand hallways. They walk up a short amount of stair and see two rooms. Priya indicated that they should head to the send and they do. She claims they should be seated and make small talk while they wait. Suddenly they are interrupted by three women.

“Is this the one one?” A tall and strongly featured woman asks them.

“Yes it’s him. Victor my little brother.” Anna answers smiling from ear to ear. One of the women makes a note on a small clipboard.

“What is this?” asked the poor, confused victor.

“It’s just something we arranged for you.” said Priya with a smile.

“I don’t understand, is this like an intervention? You both know I never do anything.”

“We know Vic. But this isn’t about that, imagine it as a different kind of intervention. You see we both know the lessons you got from mom and dad growing up and we think that a bit of modernity might help you. It might help you loose your virginity too.”

“You tokd her?” Victor turns to Priya with a hurt expression.

“I knew Victor.” Anna assures him

“pleasure just trust us.”Priya assures him and places her hand on his shoulder.

“Is this a brothel did you hire a prostitute for me.” Victor asks.

Priya laughs and shakes her head at him and Anna smiles knowingly. The other women seem to be amused as well and one lets out a small giggle.

“No it’s not that.” Priya assures him.

“Just trust us. It’s more of a workshop on social skills” Anna assures him.

“Alright I’ll trust you for now.” Victor says, still nervous.

“Don’t worry your sister is mostly right.” The lead woman in the group assures him.

“Besides we have the car keys until tomorrow evening so why don’t you follow us?” She adds and turns to leave the room. Priya and Anna stand immediately to follow. Victor is reticent at first but Anna and Priya pull reassuringly on his arms and soon he stands and begins to follow.

The end of part one.

[datninjalyfe]

Not Without You, Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Jumping Between Memories 

“Wow, what an amazing quirk!” a teacher gloated on Katsuki after his hands accidentally sparked up during class.

“You’ll be a great hero someday.” another told him.  

His eyes grew wide in amazement when he first heard those words.  He looked at his hands in astonishment, total bewilderment at the blessing that was now bestowed upon him.

“Your quirk is amazing, Kacchan!” Izuku told him.  

Izuku had told him that twice in his life.  The first time was when they were little.  Young Katsuki being followed by his little Deku, who trotted behind him, telling him of his incredible attributes he already knew about himself thanks to all the other people who had told him similar things.  The other was a little over a year ago during a brief fight where Katsuki had exposed his insecurities about Shoto.

At the time, Katsuki could feel that Izuku wasn’t telling him everything, especially when it came to his friendship with Shoto Todoroki.  Izuku was holding a secret, something that only the two of them could share—it was irritating for Katsuki, not to know what it was.  Katsuki tried to breathe through the anger and not to lash out at Izuku.  Calm down, he had told himself.  But he didn’t want to lose him.  Not to that bastard, anyway.  “Deku.  I’m not just anybody.  I can hold a secret.”  Izuku shook his head and Katsuki’s quirk grew hotter in his chest.  He felt the heat run down his arms and he quickly hugged the sides of his body, muffling the wet, warm sweat in his hands that had begun to ignite.  “Hell, I’m holding the most important secret in the world for you right fucking now, in case you forgot.”

Again, Izuku shook his head.  Before Katsuki could say anything to combat it, Izuku told him, “I’m thankful for that, Kacchan, really, but this is important to him!”

Important to him?!  He’s not fucking serious, right?! Katsuki could feel the sweat start to drip down the sides of his torso.  The heat was substantial like a furnace running through him.  “To him?  What about what’s important to ME?”

There were two knocks on the wall—Uraraka’s way of telling them that they were getting too rowdy. The last thing they wanted to do was blow their cover and have Aizawa catch Izuku in his room.  But Katsuki was so scared of losing Izuku.  He was scared of everything that he had done wasn’t enough. A slow exhale left him.  He won’t leave you!  It’s okay, you two will be alright. Katsuki tried to tell himself, but he couldn’t stop.  Izuku’s time with him was so precious and it was already being lost.  Katsuki let go of his body and sat down in his desk chair. He waited a few moments, giving his mind and body time to recover.  It took a few seconds, but his hands eventually stopped smoking and he gained a little more control.  “Am I not important?”

Izuku sat down on the bed across from him.  They were quiet until Izuku said, “Kacchan.” he said, a little flute playing in between each letter.  Katsuki melted hearing his nickname that Izuku had given him.  While direct, there was also a warmth and calmness in his voice. “You are important.”

“It just—,” Katsuki started. I just want to be with you and it seems like you don’t want to be with me.  Rather than say that, Katsuki decided to take a different route. “It seems like you spend so much time with everyone else.  It’s not fair.” Be with me. I’m only ask for your time, Deku.

“You’re allowed to have friends.  Why can’t I?” he asked Katsuki.    

Even then, Katsuki could feel that there was something Izuku wasn’t telling him.  He leaned back in the chair, smirking slightly, but narrowing his gaze.  “It’s not just that, though.  Is it?”  Katsuki could feel Izuku thinking.  It was a piece of Izuku that Katsuki had actually grown to love over the years: Izuku was smart, but Katsuki couldn’t help but feel that in this moment, Izuku was being more calculated and tactical rather than truthful.  It didn’t encourage Katsuki.  He wanted to be reassured, but feared that Izuku was just thinking of a way to strategically bullshit his way through an answer.  But instead, to Katsuki’s surprise, Izuku said bluntly: “You have nothing to worry about.”

He tried to hide the tears that welled up in his eyes.  I told you I’d give you my all.  Why aren’t you doing the same? He closed his eyes, but he could still feel the water behind his eyelids.  He sniffled loudly.  I don’t want to lose you, Deku. Katsuki got up from the chair, quietly walking over to him.  He lifted Izuku’s chin and gently placed his lips upon Izuku’s, a light, soft kiss. Instantly, Katsuki could feel all the tension leave him.  Please, just let me love you.  “Okay, Deku.” Katsuki said releasing the kiss, and wrapped himself around Izuku, holding his shoulder’s tightly and placing his forehead in the crook of his neck. He kissed Izuku’s collarbone.

“Could you make yourself warm?” Izuku asked him.  “It’s kind of cold.”

Katsuki chuckled quietly and handed Izuku the U.A. jacket he was wearing.  Katsuki’s shoulders were bigger and broader than Izuku’s, but Izuku’s arms were larger.  Despite being fit to Katsuki, it looked great on Izuku, making his muscles bulge through the sleeves.  “Come here.” he told Izuku, laying down.  He held out his arm.  “I’ll warm you up.”  Izuku smiled, blushing slightly and laid atop of Katsuki, who pulled up the blanket.  He felt his body hum as he warmed his chest, trying to isolate the heat underneath the blanket.  He pulled Izuku in closer.  “Better?” Katsuki asked him.  

Izuku nodded.  “Your quirk is amazing, Kacchan.”

My quirk…

Katsuki was almost instantly jolted back to the present.  He looked up at his hands, feeling the heat rush to his fingertips.  He laid down in his dorm room, on a mattress he basically threw on the floor.  He hadn’t done much decorating to this room, since he was hardly ever in it.  During the week, he mostly spent the nights in a small city just outside of where U.A. where Katsuki did his work study.  His weekends, when he was off, was spent with various women, most of whom were just one-night stands.  He didn’t bother learning any of their names, just wanted to literally get in, get off and when the morning came, get out.  

It honestly felt strange to him to be back on campus on a Friday night.  The woman that he had been messaging online had canceled on him and he called his boss to let him come in, Radioactive had Yoyo talk him into staying on campus.  

“Bakugou, I appreciate the help, really—,” Radioactive started, but Katsuki cut him off.

“Good, then I’ll be there in an hour.”

“—no, really, we can handle it.  Take the weekend for yourself.”

“I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

“Bakugou, your work ethic is admirable.  But we aren’t working on anything too big right now and we can handle the work load by ourselves.” he heard Radioactive sigh loudly.  “Why the hell does it sound like I’m talking to my fucking mother?!  For the love of fucking God—Yoyo, tell your friend to stay the fuck home!”

Katsuki could hear shuffling in the background and only imagined Yoyo cartwheeling over to the phone before saying in a horribly fake British accent,  “Hello, may I ask who I have the privilege of speaking to?”

“Yoyo, it’s me.”

“Not much of a privilege, then, is it?” Yoyo asked.  Katsuki could hear him smiling through the phone.  “You just finished one hell of a mission, maybe you should take it easy.” Yoyo said. “Really, sweetheart, it’s best if you just stay on campus for a night.  It won’t kill you.” Yoyo pleaded.  

“I—don’t want to be alone.” Katsuki confessed.  

“I know, honey, but I think some alone time would do you some good.”

“Can you—,” Katsuki started before sighing loudly.  “—just stay on the phone with me?”

There was silence.  “Okay, for a few minutes.  What shall we discuss?” Even over the phone, Katsuki could hear Yoyo thinking.  “Oh!  Shall we gossip about your class?”

“I did Detonation in class yesterday.”

“OH!” Yoyo said loudly, and Katsuki had to pull the phone away from his ear.  “The new ultimate move Radio’s been teaching you!  How did it go?”  Yoyo’s voice lowered.  “Was he impressed?”

Katsuki opened his mouth to yell at him, but then immediately closed it.  He hadn’t really thought about whether or not Izuku was impressed with his new move.  “I hope so.” he whispered to his friend.  

There was a time when Izuku was impressed with anything Katsuki did.  A time when Katsuki could’ve crawled all over the quirkless boy and Izuku still would have followed him.  Izuku held Katsuki in such high esteem.  But he doesn’t anymore.  He hated being on campus alone.  He hated not having anything to do.  These sorts of thoughts always came back, playing like a movie relentlessly over and over again, bouncing around in his head.  

He thought about Izuku when he awoke in the morning and tirelessly tried to distract himself from thinking about him for the rest of the day.  For the third years mainly, since they mainly focused on work studies, most of the students weren’t on campus much.  The time they did have class was rough, especially when both he and Shoto were in class with him.  They both worked at Endeavor’s agency, so one or both were always gone on various missions. Radioactive was a small time, local hero but promised Katsuki he could push his quirk to it’s full potential.  And he hadn’t lied.  Katsuki was now able to use his quirk in various different ways simultaneously, even pushing it to detonation, a move that he hadn’t been able to do previously.  Katsuki was thankful for his mentor, but also for the distraction from his thoughts.

His phone buzzed—a message from one of the dating apps: IT’S A MATCH! and a message that read: You’re the Explosion Hero Kacchan, right?  He was surprised, considering Radioactive was such a small-time hero. Yeah, that’s me, he messaged back. The response came quickly, but it was a link.  Katsuki pressed it and it took him to an article from a mission he had completed over last summer.  It was one of his first missions with Radioactive.

“Prove yourself.” his mentor had told him.  “I won’t help someone that isn’t willing to help others.”

Katsuki smirked, a smile from ear to ear.  “Just tell me what I have to do.”

An explosion had engulfed a government facility.  It was unknown whether villains would be there, but Katsuki was told to rescue anyone from the building without causing further injury.  When they arrived on scene, Katsuki was shocked by the horror that he saw: people were jumping out of windows, their bodies covered in flames and trying to avoid being burned to death, they were killed instantly as their heads splattering against the pavement below.  

“Kacchan, save her!” Kastuki heard Yoyo yell out.  When Katsuki looked up, a woman that was holding on to a piece of the collapsing building had broken off.

“I got her!” Katsuki yelled back, jumping up off the ground and grabbing the woman.  He gave himself a slight blast back up into the air so he would have a smoother landing.  When both feet were firmly planted on the ground, he looked at her, quickly checking for any injuries.  He couldn’t see any, despite the outpour of tears flowing from her eyes.  Reminds me of fucking Deku.

“You—you rescued me.” She climbed out of his arms and shakily bowed, trying to be respectful.  “Thank you, young hero.”

Katsuki looked at the picture in the article the woman had sent him from the incident.  It was a picture that had been taken and plastered on almost every newspaper in Japan.  She was in his arms, her body clinging onto his tightly.  The Young Explosion Hero, Kacchan, Makes His Debut! He looked at the woman in the picture and then scrolled back to the app messages, where he clicked on her profile picture.  

Same woman. Katsuki thought before clicking on chat.  He read over her message: I’m not really looking for anything, but that was my sister you rescued.  I really just wanted to say thank you.  

Katsuki chuckled, thinking of what Kaminari would say in this situation.  Something stupid and vulgar, I’m sure.  But he typed out: Not necessary.  An ellipsis appeared on the screen and her response came quickly: I’d like to show you my gratitude, young hero…

He truthfully thought about it.  He wanted to say yes, he wanted to desperately to be in the company of someone, to have them love on him, suck him, fuck him.  He wanted to have someone show them how thankful they were, how appreciative they were that he was there for them and wanted to be shown that admiration in return.  

He scrolled through her pictures, trying to convince himself that he found her attractive.  “C’mon…” he tried.  He looked through the pictures, trying to find just one, but grew angrier the harder he looked.  When he couldn’t do it, he threw his phone across the room.  He cried, burying himself in his hands.  Why?  Why am I not over him yet?!  “God, what’s wrong with me?” he asked himself, just wanting something.  Did he not deserve to be happy?  Did he not deserve love? 

“No, I do.  Fuck it, I deserve someone to love me.” 

Send me an address. he finally messaged the woman.  Katsuki wiped his face off, zipping his pants back up, he left his room and made his way downstairs.  His phone buzzed once more with her address.  Katsuki was surprised when the elevator doors opened and he saw Kirishima on the couch next to Sero.  

“Hey, man, heading out?” Kirishima asked.  

Katsuki thought about staying in for the night and hanging around with Kirishima and Sero.  “Thought you were working on a big mission.”

“We are, but the meeting is downtown, so I’ll leave in an hour or so.”

Damn, Katsuki thought.  He would’ve much rather spent the night here than providing fanservice for a one-night stand.  “Yeah, I’m gonna head out.  I’ll send you the address.”  

After unsafe events from last year, the two gave each other their locations every time they left.  “Just be safe, bro.”

Katsuki took a screenshot and waited until Kirishima gave him a thumbs up that he received the message to head out the door.  He pulled out his earphones, placing one in each ear and opened the door leading outside—

and stared into the bright green eyes of Izuku.  Katsuki dared not take a single breath, nor could he avert his gaze.  His heart hammered against his chest, louder with each beat, faster with every second that passed; it deafened his ears, crashing hard against his ribcage, causing adrenaline to pump with his quirk, through his veins. The heat beat into the palm of his hands, dripping down into the very tips of his fingers.  The two could only look at each other as sharp threads of panic darted through him.  Katsuki wanted to speak, trying to force his mouth open, but as if his mouth was stitched completely shut.  He said nothing, didn’t move, couldn’t move.  

But Izuku just smiled, blushing slightly and said, “Kacchan.” a tiny flute playing in his voice.

The sound forced a breath that Katsuki had choked back and he exhaled a hot breath that condensed into the cold air.  Realizing how tense he was, he dropped his shoulders and unclenched his jaw.  He wasn’t completely relaxed, but there was comfort in the tone of that voice.  It wasn’t harsh or rude; it wasn’t shaky or scared; instead, it was just a simple word, but it was so familiar and made Katsuki feel so safe, so secure in that moment. And before he could stop it, he acknowledged Izuku back with a simple, yet familiar word of his own: “Nerd.”

He felt the heat rush to his cheeks as it left the seam of his lips.  He stepped past Izuku, finally able to tear his eyes away.  Each step was harder than the last as he moved forward. He swore he could feel Izuku’s eyes still on him, but when he turned around and started to say, “Deku—,” but the door to the dorm had closed, Izuku on the other side of it.  

Katsuki waited there for a few more seconds, just staring at the door.  The heat of his quirk still raged within his body.  Go after him, it told him, motivating him to walk back through the door.  Icy Hot isn’t here—it continued and he took a single step.  God, just say it again, Deku.  He took another step towards the dorm.  He wanted Izuku, needed him—

But he stopped himself. No, not like this.  Turning back around, he marched away from the dorm, lightly humming to himself.  Smiling from ear to ear.

(previous)(all)(next)

[thestarwrites]

All Right, All Might: Ch.6

Word Count: 3,228

Rating: PG

Painting: Toshinori Yagi X FemOC

The UA Guidance Counselor, a quirk user with Pathokenesis, is shocked to find out her personal hero All Might is coming to be a teacher. The road they walk as a parallel starts to merge and there’s no telling what could happen. This is the moment when everything starts to go haywire; The attack at the USJ.

CHAPTER SIX: It Started On All Might’s Day Off

“Remind me again why you’re here on your day off instead of resting at home and doing some of the things you say you’re too busy to do? Like get furniture?” Keri quirked her eyebrow at the tall blonde relaxing on her sofa as she typed. The door was locked and the privacy shade was down, “I can’t even see any students while you’re in here like this Tosh.”

All Might frowned, “I brought you lunch… don’t you want to come and eat it before it gets cold?”

The woman looked up and couldn’t help but smile, standing up she stretched, “I guess it is lunch time, and you were sweet enough to bring me lunch.”

“You bring me lunch sometimes.”

“Yeah to your desk when you haven’t left it to eat in hours,” She huffed, “I know you have a hard time getting food to stay down and stuff.” She went over and wrapped her arms around him with a sigh.

He looked down at the crown of her head, “You okay?”

“Yeah, just glad to see you.”

The two adults sat in comfortable silence for a while as he held onto her, stroking her back. Toshinori smiled, he had recently been back in touch with his mentor, Gran Torino- he had to tell him about Izuku, and he might have mentioned something about this woman practically in his lap.

“Toshinori?” She looked up at him.

A blush crept over his cheeks and he tried to look mildly interested, “Hm?”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Well— sure you can, I don’t see why not.”

She slid to sit beside him and pushed a hand in her hair, “Have you ever dated a woman?” He started coughing up blood, “Oh shit— Oh god I’m sorry—“

“No- no—“ he wiped at it with the stained handkerchief she’d given him, “I just— no I was always too busy for that. I had a job to do.” He blushed, “Not to say I haven’t… seen my share of action.”

Keri nodded and looked away, “Just wondering.”

Clearing his throat he smiled, “So- want to see what I brought you —“

Cutting All Might off was the sound of a recording;

“WARNING, LEVEL THREE SECURITY BREECH. ALL STUDENTS EVACUATE THE BUILDING IN AN ORDERLY FASHION. WARNING, LEVEL THREE SECURITY BREECH—“

Keri shot up, “What!?” She jumped up and started to move toward the door, “Toshi—“

He stood and bulked up into his muscle form, “WE’LL SEE WHAT’S WRONG.”

Keri rushed into the hallway with All Might, “Stop right there you two.” A calm voice rang out over the emergency message, “The press got past our security.”

“The press?”

“Yes, Patho, the press are here and they want All Might,” He cleared his throat, “Eraserhead and Present Mike are down there telling them its his day /off/.”

Toshinori rubbed the back of his head, “SORRY ABOUT THAT… I UH… WANTED TO BRING MISS CHAIRO SOME LUNCH.”

“Well, as it is, we wouldn’t want the press to get any statements from you anyhow.”

Keri raised her hand, “How did the press even get past the security gate…?”

“Thats exactly what I want to know,” Nezu hummed softly.

Recovery Girl came from her office and sighed, “What’s all this then.”

“Reporters,” Nezu looked up at her, “I’ve already phoned the police.”

Keri turned, “Toshi, you have to get out of here once they’re gone.”

“Tch- You… want me to leave?”

She was embarrassed that she was in front of an audience for this, but all the same, “Its your day off, Toshi. You need to go home and rest, and — and I’ll come over after work and check on you okay?”

He smiled and nodded, “Okay, Ree, you’re right… I do need my rest.”

Nezu cleared his throat, “Now… We need to go down and inspect the gate once the police escort everyone away.”

Keri nodded and then stopped, “Oh my god has anyone checked on the kids?! Do they even know what to do in an emergency like this?” She looked back and then started for the elevator to head down to the cafeteria.

All Might started to run after her, Nezu cleared his throat, “This is her specialty, All Might. Let her handle it.”

The man nodded and scratched the back of his head.

“I know there are no fraternization rules here at UA… but that being said… I can’t have you here distracting Patho while she can be meeting with students…”

“F-fraternization!?”

Nezu blinked, “Staff dating.”

“W-we’re not dating!! We’re friends!” Toshinori burned red, a nagging feeling he had felt before in her presence was bubbling up inside of his chest, “But you are right, I can’t come and interrupt someone during their work day because they are my friend. I’m sorry.”

“Its alright, All Might, no harm done,” Nezu smiled, “Why don’t you wait in her office until the police and the reporters are gone?”

He nodded and went back to sit on the sofa, pulling down the privacy curtain he deflated and ran a hand in his blonde hair, “Why does everyone keep saying we’re dating… Keri couldn’t think of me like that, I’m frail and old - all washed up. And soon I’ll be quirkless. I’m twenty years her senior… she deserves better.”

----

Keri ran down toward the cafeteria where the children were all eating lunch — and it was utter chaos, “Shit—!” She gasped and took a deep breath, her forehead starting to glow a bright pink where she stood in the hallway doors. Looking up she saw him, Tenya ida flying through the air and landing on thee external doors.

“EVERYONE!” He cried out.

“Looks like he needs a support hero,” she smiled a little and her whole body began to glow as it had the previous day on the training field - balls of pink light forming on the ends of her fingertips- extending them toward the students, everything began to slowly quiet down. She concentrated - calming waves started to wash over the stampede of kids until between her quirk, and Tenya’s shouts, they were still.

“IT’S JUST THE MEDIA OUTSIDE!” He called out, he too, felt the calming affect come over him but he couldn’t think of it now, “THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT, EVERYTHING’S FINE — WE’RE UA STUDENTS, WE NEED TO REMAIN CALM AND SHOW EVERYONE WE’RE THE BEST OF THE BEST!”

Keri smiled brightly, he had the authority of a great hero. She flexed her fingers open wider and sighs of relief started flooding through the room.

“Wow — did you see that?! That was so manly!” Kirishima shouted.

“Did you notice he looks like the exit sign guy?” Kaminari started laughing.

Deku touched his chest and looked over his shoulder - there at the back of the room stood Patho, glowing pink. He could tell the rest of his classmates were beginning to significantly calm down now.

Police sirens started blaring, “Hey! Its the police!” A girl called out.

“Everyone! If I could have your attention now please!” Keri called out, still glowing. The students turned their heads, “Everyone please return back to lunch time, an announcement will come over when you will be returning to classes!”

Nodding kids started filtering back into the cafeteria to their lunches, while Ururaka started hurrying toward Ida, “That was amazing Ida!” She put her hands together and sighed, “Re… lease!”

Ida fell from the doorway, landing alright on his feet, “I couldn’t have done it without you, Ururaka.” He smiled.

Deku walked up and grinned, “Ida that really was amazing.”

“Yes, Tenya,” Keri said with a smile as she came up behind Deku and Ururaka, “That was really impressive what you did back there.”

“Well I, I know I had your help, miss Chairo.” Tenya blushed a little.

She smiled, “You probably would have been able to command the situation even if I wasn’t here. You were already in the process before I arrived. I just wanted it to go more smoothly. That’s what I’m here for after all.”

Ida smiled, “Thank you… your quirk feels… so strange, I must admit.” He smiled.

Ochaco grinned, “Yeah! Like someone wraps you with a big blanket!”

Keri laughed softly, “Its not the only thing I can make someone feel, but its the most useful I think, now, why don’t you return to your lunches, and try to have a good rest of your day, hm? I’m going to go see to the police.”

“Yes Miss Chairo!” Ida smiled and ushered his classmates back toward their table. Deku gave her a wave which she returned with a smile.

An ominous wind blew across campus as Principal Nezu stood perfectly composed before the crumbled school defense wall. Midnight, Thirteen, Recovery Girl and Patho circled behind. The four women looked slightly bewildered as Nezu began to speak.

“How were ordinary members of the press able to by-pass our security systems? Someone else must have been behind this… Some villain managed to actually infiltrate our school. But was this purely a show of power? Or a declaration of war?” He looked at the rubble and then back to the four women.

Midnight took a deep breath, face solemn, “Whatever quirk did this… it obliterated the wall- Nezu, what are we going to do?”

“It may have eliminated the wall but the sensors are still in tact,” Patho looked up.

“What if its more than one villain? What if it’s a test?” Recovery Girl asked.

Patho looked down to her and then back up, “We have All Might.”

“All Might can’t be everywhere Keri and you know it,” Midnight looked to her, “And if its more than one villain, what is one man to do against that?”

“You’re right, Midnight. We all must be prepared for what could happen next. All the teachers must be informed,” Nezu nodded, “We’ll have a conference after school today.”

“Yes, sir.”

THE VERY NEXT DAY…

“You’re late,” The younger woman smirked, standing in front of the school doors as Toshinori ran up, out of breath, “Doing hero work again?”

“Keri—“ He gasped a breath, “Listen I—“

“Its no use, you’re in trouble, mister,” She giggled.

He ran his hands down his face, “I can’t just— ignore—“

Keri went to him and took his hand, “Calm down idiot, I’m teasing you… but you do need to be more careful - you’re using up your hero time on things other heroes can handle… these kids deserve the most time you can give them.”

He hung his head and held her hand close, kneeling to be a little under her height, “You’re right… You’re always right, Ree…”

“I know,” She smiled and pushed some of his blonde hair back, “Don’t be so dramatic, you don’t have to train 1-A today at least, they’re heading to the USJ right now with Aizawa. They all looked so cute in their little costumes.”

“They’re on their way to the USJ Already!? I thought that was later in the day! Shit I’m supposed to be there!”

She blinked and rubbed the back of her head, “Ah— well then I guess you really are in trouble… come on- lets go up to my office so you can rest, you should be able to make it in time for the end of the training right?”

He stood and clenched his jaw, “This was so irresponsible of me.”

“Things happen, Tosh, just call Thirteen, I’m sure she’ll understand,” holding out her hand she smiled, “Come on, symbol of peace. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

He took her hand and took a deep breath, “Yeah, that will be good, help me recover a bit more.”

------

“Yes… Yes… Understood… Uh-huh— no no I’m sure I can make it there by the end! Yes. Okay.. I’m sorry again… honestly… Okay, bye.” Toshinori hung up his phone and hung his head.

Keri locked the door and pulled down the privacy shade again and walked up to the sofa, kneeling beside Toshinori in his weakened form, “Come here.”

He leaned into her with a frown, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned back. He was laying in her lap as she played with his golden hair, using her quirk to give him some peace of mind, “What on earth would I do without you…” He hummed blissfully as he felt his stress melt away.

“Be sitting here pacing the floor and beating yourself up,” she purred, forehead glowing bright pink as she poured good feelings into the man in her lap. Looking down as he closed his eyes she smiled, blushing slightly, he was so handsome, even — no — especially like this. Like this he was just a man, he was just Toshinori. He was good, kind, valiant, somber, fun — somehow she loved him more like this than like All Might. Well, maybe it was because you can admire and love a symbol - but you fall in love with a person. And there was no denying it in her heart that she was head over heels in love with Toshinori Yagi. Though she would never tell him.

Sighing he wrapped his arms around her waist, somehow the touch didn’t fell inappropriate - this was just their normal interaction. Friends acted like this, right? Toshi sighed and fell asleep for a little while as Keri continued her ministrations.

---

“Toshinori,” a soft voice tempted him from his dreamless sleep, “Toshi… wake up…”

“Nnh… five more minutes.”

A gentle laugh filled the room, “Toshinori my leg is asleep.”

Blinking his blue eyes open he looked up and blushed, “Ah! Oh Patho I’m sorry! How long have I been out! I’m sorry—“

“Stop, stop,” she laughed as he sat himself up and stretched, “You’ve been asleep for half an hour, you needed some rest, it was no trouble.”

“I should call Aizawa,” he coughed a bit and pulled his phone to his ear, “See how things are going.” When he couldn’t reach the man, he tried Thirteen — no answer.

“What’s wrong?”

All Might frowned, “I can’t get either of them on the phone— let me try Aizawa again.”

She stood and stretched, “They are teaching.”

“I know…” he pouted, “Maybe I should just show up there — you know… say something inspiring!” He bulked up and started immediately coughing blood.

“Toshi—!” She was cut off by a knock at the door.

A soft cough sounded out, “Patho? Am I correct that I hear All Might in there?”

“Shit-“ she ran to the door, unlocking it, “Principal Nezu, sir, yes he’s been in here resting.”

“Dear? Will you run downstairs and get me some tea from the lunchroom?”

“Sir, I have tea here…” Nezu shot her a look, “Ah-! Yes… I’ll get tea from the lunch room.” She frowned and cleared her throat, “I will be back,” with that, she left the room.

--

Taking a deep breath she got into the elevator, “Poor Toshinori… he’s going to get one hell of a lecture if ever I heard one…” Walking through the hallways she took stock of everything going down in each classroom, knowing she wasn’t wanted back in her office for a good long while.

Finally after wandering around for almost forty minutes, Patho decided a nice walk outside would do the trick — “MISS CHAIRO!!!” She heard a scream, a familiar one — Tenya.

“Tenya?!” She rushed to the top of the stairs to see the boy sprinting with all his might - looking exhausted, “Tenya what’s wrong?!”

He all but collapsed against the stairs, “The USJ — a villain attack— there’s a hundred easy — Aizawa and Thirteen and the others—“ He was crying.

Patho ran to him, trying to help him up, “Tenya, come with me- we have to tell the Principal exactly what is happening so he can sound the alarm.” The boy nodded, Patho activated her quirk to try and soothe him - though it didn’t do much with all the fear and adrenaline she could feel coming off of him, “You did the right thing running back to the school, Tenya, I’m so proud of you.”

He just stared ahead, trying to remain standing as the rode up the elevator.

Keri helped him down the hall, “NEZU!! NEZU COME QUICK!” She shouted from the hall. Nezu and a Buffed up All Might ran into the hallway.

“Young Ida - what’s wrong—“ Nezu started.

“Principal Nezu, there’s been a villain attack inside the USJ, Thirteen, Aizawa and the class are trying to fight them off - there are so many — they need help!”

Nezu nodded, “Patho - get Tenya to lie down in your office, get him some water - I’m going to sound the alarm and call the police— All Might you — ALL MIGHT?”

The man was running into the stairwell before anyone could say anything. He had to save the kids. He had to. If he had been there none of this would have happened.

Nezu shook his head, “Patho — take care of Ida.”

“Miss Chairo — you have to let me go back to my class—“

“Tenya. You’re exhausted. You have done an incredible thing, and All Might is on his way - the police and other heroes will be on the scene. Right now, you need to sit down for a moment- when Nezu gathers the staff, you can head with them, okay?”
 He nodded, tears in his eyes, “I— I…” He covered his face, taking his glasses off.

Keri knelt by him, setting a glass of water on the coffee table, “Hey now… its alright to cry, you can let it out Tenya, you’re safe here.”

“My friends are in trouble!” He whimpered.

“Yes, but they are capable, as are the heroes with them. Here, I want you to take a sip of water and take a few deep breaths, you need to calm down some so you can return to thee USJ.” She held out the glass for him. He took it and took a few breaths, wiping his eyes, “Thats it Tenya.” She had to focus on the boy in front of her, had to do her job. Her heart was pounding in her own chest knowing Toshinori wasn’t strong enough for this right now.

“Thank you….” He said softly as he took another drink of water, “Miss Chairo… I couldn’t have made it up here without your help.”

“Come on now— lets get up and go see if the teachers are getting ready.”

He nodded and took another breath, standing with renewed vigor — inspiration from Patho’s quirk.

Nezu came into the hallway, “Come on — we’re meeting everyone at the front of the building, the police are on their way. Patho I need you to stay behind and watch the front doors.”

Tenya gave a quick look over to there guidance counselor and for a moment thought he saw a brief look of disappointment or something related cross her face before she uttered, “Yes, sir, I’ll keep an eye for the cops.”

In what seemed like no time at all, all of the pros were gone in the direction of the USJ. Patho stood on the steps of the school, all of the other kids in their classrooms unaware, thinking some staff meeting was called. She looked down at her feet, feeling pathetic once more. She couldn’t even help her students in trouble. She just silently hoped for everyone’s safety.

Turning her head — she heard sirens fast approaching.

[rayj-drash]

Berlin Sketches pt 1

by T. Frank

My grandmother cannot fathom entering Germany. She was a child of the Great Depression and lived through the war safely from the Catskill Mountains of New York while her husband fixed radios on home turf. However, Germany represents a taboo in history for my grandparents as Jews. They would no sooner visit the Brandenberg Gate than they would try scuba diving without an oxygen tank.

 I constantly reflect on the trusted feeling of Home since I lived in Berlin for six weeks in fall of 2018. Previously, the longest trip I took was a ten-day tour of Israel through the organization Birthright: from the peak of a mountain overlooking three desert countries, to the crowded rush of the Jerusalem shuk, and my aversion to a display of American-Israeli nationalism on a military campus. The scenes and feelings form a whirlwind of hazy memories, much like any experience on new land. 

A few days after I arrived back in the Bay Area, I sat in Strawberry Creek Park watching the sun go down and the light blue sky grow faint as night approached, seeking those moments of "awe" that came so suddenly in Berlin. This bright green park reminded me of the open recreational space I loved over there, even though the grass was literally greener on this side of the pond!  I distinctly remember the moment when I scarcely had to look up at the street signs and felt like whichever path I took, I would find my way. Nevertheless, five months ago, I had sent in an application for an unusual art residency, an immersion into the study of grief. I reflected on those periods of my life that had led to some of my deepest creations. Drawings of cancer cells and lungs, struggles to breathe and heal in the midst of choking emotion, flowers and vines winding through the dark themes. I yearned to express my observations of the world through whatever moved me, again.

~~~~~

The journey to Berlin was a three-legged trip with two layovers, leaving Friday evening and arriving at 10:00PM on Saturday. A huge, crowded economy flight, cheap and minimal. I tried to rest as the crew turned off all lights on board. No sooner did I close my eyes than it seemed like the sun was creeping over the horizon, and we touched down to a windy, barren tarmac. It was 9:00AM, as all the passengers disembarked in Reykjavik, Iceland, we felt the chill burrowing through our thin layers and shivered.

On the second leg, as the plane glided to the lowlands, I appreciated the bucolic farmland. I was alone in the Copenhagen airport. The crowds in Reykjavik were more diverse, like a burgeoning metropolis.  By contrast, everyone arriving in this Danish terminal looked alike: tall, blond, and, permit me, Aryan. They traveled in clusters of family groups, chatting, gesturing, smiling. I dragged my suitcase past designer boutiques to a desolate, unfinished terminal, where passengers awaited their flights without customary notice; but learned to say, Takk, Danish for "Thank you". When I finally reached Germany, I connected to the U-bahn, the underground subway. The ride was over an hour long, and I gazed at the subterranean signage, lost once more. Until I arrived at Rathaus Neukölln, and my new roommate Shimon met me outside in the rain.

The next day, I left the mattress that our hostess Amelia had set up on the floor, staggering about with jet lag. Luckily there's oatmeal, my favorite companion. Shimon and his friend Devorah from Tel Aviv are home. We discuss the neighborhood. ‘What if I get terribly lost, not only physically, but mentally, too?’ I thought. ‘Is this a dream? Why am I so far from anyplace I know?’ Devorah suggested a walk to the canal, with a Sunday flea market. Late afternoon, I ventured outdoors and discovered a slice of paradise.

At the end of the block, a large mosaic mural adorned a staircase which I took to have the impression of a rooftop. A large concrete lot surrounded a beautiful community garden. Raised flower beds were home to a bounty of colorful flowers, tall green vegetables grew under the sunshine and painted poles flanked handmade structures. I spotted a concrete ping-pong table, and mustered up the courage to join two men playing. One of them wore a baseball cap with "Cal" emblazoned in blue and yellow; by chance, he attended law school at UC Berkeley, and lived several blocks away from me! After a few rounds of ping-pong, the Germans drank beer and suggested that I check out a nearby landmark before sunset.

Cheered, I walked along and found an "I Love SF" sweatshirt at a pop-up flea market. More surprises awaited. I heard music, and pushed aside brambles to emerge in Hasenheide Park, where a large circle of guitarists and drummers jammed for casual onlookers. I saw an ornate mosque with blue and gold trim, a wide courtyard, and an outdoor faucet for washing hands or drinking cool, crisp water. Next door was Tempelhof Field. A former airport utilized during World War Two to fly-in supplies from the West, the unused tarmac was reinvented as an open recreational wonderland. I entered the gates and was met with flocks of activity: bicyclists, joggers, even a pair doing synchronized roller-skating. Dry, dull grass covered the fields, but a victory garden shined under the setting sun, and the barista of an on-site cafe recommended finding a good perch. 

I joined two boys from Afghanistan, Hasan and Muhamed, watching the sky from tall ladder-seats. Muhamed and I grinned, struggling to hold a conversation between the lack of a common language. Google helped, but broken English got us farther. "Do you know there are still American police in my country?,” he exclaimed. My conscience bristling, I say that most people do not speak of the Afghan-American war anymore. The sun set in deep purple and vivid pink hues. Hasan saw my eyes light up at the sight of his bicycle, and offered me a ride--so, I sat sideways on the frame, clutching his black leather jacket, and answering "Ya" when asked, "Alles Gut?"until I grimaced from discomfort and Hasan laughed--"Kaput!" The two friends saw me off at a bus stop, and I stumbled on board as the passengers stared.

~~~~~

The following Monday, I walked twenty minutes from the apartment to arrive in front of a white-painted gallery, and no one around. Feeling nervous that the entire program was a hoax (just like my parents thought when they read the acceptance letter from the dubious-sounding organization),  I noticed a middle-aged man at a computer in the corner. I knocked on the window, and he let me inside. Here was a room devoid of decoration, save for a long rectangular table and six chairs, three of which were filled by women. Soon, another man entered the room and offered tea, introducing himself as our "mentor". We never referred to him by any name other than his own, even when I suggested “Alek”. He's over six feet tall, shaved head, and wore all black from his long-sleeved turtleneck to his sturdy dress shoes.

The participants introduced themselves. Sarah researched environmental grief, such as the devastation left behind from man-made disasters. Gwen studied grief theories in graduate school. Jasmine hoped to connect to refugees of war. And Sara--no error, there are two--prepared to make an installation honoring a departed friend. Linda would join us the following afternoon and plunge into an exploration of feeling othered through found objects. After we went over studio policies, we shared a bit on why we study grief, bringing several girls to tears. It felt like a group therapy session--and it wouldn't be the last. 

~~~~~

Dear Talya, Gone to synagogue. It's a short walk from the canal. I forget the street name-'Pflug'-something. Come join me for Yom Kippur services. Love, Devorah. Without consulting a map, I asked for directions from three different shopkeepers to find the synagogue. Luckily, they understood English and didn’t express unsavory reactions to my Jewish-ness. Once I found the path parallel to the Canal, the temple came into view: a large building curving around a tranquil block, with stained glass windows and a grand façade. Security officers were stationed outside, and I was screened before entering. "Are you Jewish?" they ask.. "Yes." Unmoved, they question, "Do you pray?" 

In August, I went to Washington, DC for my cousin’s wedding. Her family and friends are modern orthodox, or, religious. The day before the wedding, we were in shul for Shabbat services. During the long morning prayers, I read the English version of the Torah portion. The text alluded to the treatment of rape by virtue of marriage or the punishment of execution. By coincidence, this was the same chapter I studied for my Bat Mitzvah twelve years ago, but I must have been too young to grasp such explicit content. I left the room and spent the rest of services out in the hallway, tending to the potted plants as a distraction. 

Did I pray? Not willfully on that day in the synagogue. Internally, yes, throughout my life: the inner dialogue between my spirit and the spirit of a G-d. But in practice, only with family over Shabbat blessings. So I answered, "No. But my Israeli friend is in there, can I go in?" 

Yom Kippur services were surprisingly welcoming in Germany. Although the congregation was divided amongst the men and women, the dress code was more relaxed (jeans, white t-shirts), and several of the men held babies on their shoulders as the rabbi sang in Hebrew. I found Devorah and stood beside her. I recognized the somber prayer, "Avinu Malkeinu", and it felt no different than my family's congregation. The prayer books here were German on one side, and Hebrew on the other.

 After the ceremony, we passed by plenty of people enjoying the balmy weather at dusk. Devorah was reminded of holidays in her country, riding her bike freely while everyone took time off to relax. Shimon met us to break the fast with noodle phơ. I was lucky to connect with "my people", thousands of miles away from home. As a child, I remember feeling like my relatives’ religious differences divided us. However, my cultural upbringing is something I've retained and appreciate. Joining Israelis in Germany for Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, was akin to sharing a secret amongst friends.

~~~~~

  As the weeks went by, I developed a habit of visiting the community garden, mornings before heading to the studio and nights on my way home. One weekend, I felt antsy as I read a book called The Truth Will Set You Free by Alice Miller. There was a campfire at the garden as they observed summer changing to chilly Autumn. I surveyed the party scene before resting into a corner of a homemade wooden bench under the dim glow from industrial lights around the lot.  Although the setting was not condusive to reading, I was shy to join the group. But, when I repositioned myself next to the fire, it was apparent that these young, hip, multinational guests preferred to speak in English. Rosa asked what I’m doing in Berlin. When I told her I’m studying grief, her voice got excited and she invited her friends into the conversation.

Annika was vivacious and full of life. I noticed her wisps of fuzzy blonde hair, bright in the glow of the fire. She was working on a memoir, and was also the subject of a photoshoot documenting her journey with cancer. As she spoke, I folded a paper crane and gave it to her, provoking a sense of delight. My idea for the residency then was to make a handmade book for participants to share their experiences of grief, and to make origami together. Annika agreed to be interviewed the following week.

~~~~~

I took the S-bahn, the above-ground trolley, several miles northwest where the buildings  are close to the city center. Annika told her story: how, at age 26, she discovered the cancer in her breast and rushed into several months of intensive treatment including antibody therapy, anti-hormone medicine, and chemotherapy. She ultimately received a double mastectomy and chose breast implants. For a month after surgery, Annika couldn't lift her arms over her head. It was painful, but her energy was focused on how to function normally again. Now, she was in recovery, undergoing radiation and daily physical therapy. She wholeheartedly embraced her body, and I felt a mixture of awe and love for her resilience and positive attitude.

I encouraged Annika to leave her mark in a communal scrapbook of stories. She drew a breast in pastel colors with words circling the nipple, such as "soft"-, "round"-, "hope"-, and "loss".- After I left the apartment, I boarded the train and closed my eyes. In the dark, I envisioned a bare, cream-colored orb, shiny and wet, like a peeled lychee fruit. Perhaps, I reasoned, this represented Annika's true self.

Back in the studio, I was at a loss to contribute during our group discussion. I almost broke down, overcome with emotions that arose from the interview. So I took a break from the sterile white walls, and sat under the chestnut tree in the courtyard. I picked up a spiny shell, cracked it open to reveal a creamy-brown belly. I wrote a meditation on the seed of the tree. I reflected on impermanence, on patience, on Annika taking her time to heal yet reveling in every healthy moment. I like taking my time.

"Hey Aleksander," I remarked in the midst of studio time, "Since the interview with Annika, I’ve been feeling down.” My mentor was sitting at a desk, drinking tea and writing in one of his many small notebooks. "Do you feel your own grief surface?," he replied. "No, more like I put myself in her shoes, and feel compassion." He advised, "Keep a journal--one just for yourself, your thoughts and daily experiences. And one for your work in the residency; write down everything you're thinking. It'll help, trust me."

----- Talia Frank lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. She contributes to the Donut Club, an East Bay writer’s group. Visiting Berlin in 2018 inspired a love of community gardens and allowed her to re-examine Judiasm within a global context.

Reach the author: tfrank@cca.edu 

Visual art: www.cargocollective.com/taliafrank

Blog: https://wanderlustblumen.wordpress.com

[popculturebuffet]

Giant Days (Boom) #1 “Like A Sexy Moon”

In honor of Giant Days grand finale one-shot this week, we go all the way back to the beginning of it’s long and storied ongoing where three first year university students consisting of a flighty energetic goth, a hardboiled detective metaphorically in the body of a med student, and a cheerful and naive small town girl whose mostly hair try to make it through lunch without chaos ensuing. Spoilers: Chaos ensues. Class, and a heartfelt mega-paragraph about my love of the series, is under the cut. 

A few years ago, i’d say about 2016, my mom had her annual oscar party. This isn’t all that relevant to the story, and reveals that even at 27 (I kept forgetting to correct my age on my blog), soon to be 28, I still live at home, but it’s important because it’s where I first read giant days. Buying the first volume during a comixology sale that had it for all of three bucks, I lapped up the series almost immediately,  then when I got home got my hands on every issue that had been out at the time and caught up asap, following the series since then to it’s conclusion this week. , only missing the “Where women blow and men plunder” special. For the past few years, in an ever changing comic book landscape where titles come and go, start strong and peter out or are just plain great or foul from the start but leave all the same , i’ts been my rock. My mountain in a sea of ever changing titles... and Wednesday said mountain breaks off and floats off into the either, maybe to become a new campus for the university of north carolina in the sky I dunno. The point is the series means a lot to me and it’s sad to see it go, even if it’s writer John Allison probably won’t leave my life and knowing him our heroes probably will return, or at least one or two of them will, someday, it’s still a sad end to a heartfelt, ungodly hilarious, sometimes rediculous but always intresting journey. My intrest may of waxed and waned, as is expected when a book runs 4 years, but it never left  my heart. So join me won’t you as I go back to where it all began.. not with the whole volume, but with the first monthly issue of giant days. 

------------------------- Giant Day is the creation of John Allison, who before creating this and other print works By Night and Steeple, which having not read past issue 1 or read it yet respectively will certainly pop up here eventually, was the creator of a large number of web comics, all of which I discovered thanks to Giant Days, in part because Giant Days itself is a Spin-Off from Allison’s second comic strip, and his most famous work pre-Giant Days: Scary Go Round

Scary Go Round itself was a spinoff/sequel to Allison’s previous comic strip Bobbins, originally following two minor characters from that strip before they were slowly shoved out of the strip in favor of Shelley Winters... and yes the name i intentional, not the actress from Cheers but a bubbly red head with a skewed sense of reality and a can do spirit and her two best friends: local layabout with a heart of gold Ryan, one of shelly’s old friends and Amy, the daughter of Shelley’s ex-boss, a sharp tounged young woman with a healthy libidio who grows from a spoiled princess to a responsible buisness owner. The three deal with relationship issues, wacky shenanigans.. and the supernatural stuff that happens in their town of Tackleford because it’s a hub of spoopy shit Just in case you thought it was just his other print works that were kinda weird in comparison to the mostly grounded Giant Days, nope. While his stuff post the original bobbins is well grounded in character work, it’s all got a tinge of weird to it. If you have the time check it out. While some things may fly over your head unless you read the original bobbins, and I strongly suggest you don’t, it’s otherwise a very good read and very much the blue print for his stronger later stuff. 

And as noted it’s from this weird and wonderful early goop we get the protaganist of this book: Esther DeGroot, a perky goth girl who intitally showed up with her best friend Sarah and their muscle Big Lindsay to have LIndsay beat amy into the ground for chatting up a singer they liked. Thankfully she quickly grew out of having her friends beat up college drop outs and instead became a weird, snarky goth and rival to Shelley’s snarky buttoned up sister Erin for the heart of local shy awkard lab assitant Eustace “The Boy” Boyce, himself introduced as fumbling assitant to local inventor and longtime pal of Shelley’s Tim. And you can now see why I had to get into everyone else as SGR’s characters tend to intersect and that web only widens. 

Esther would eventually win, and Erin would eventually end up in hell then forgotten from everyone’s memories shortly after, with Esther and Eustace staying together for the duration of the strip and through many shenanigans and were actually a rather adorable couple. By this time Esther and Eustace were just as much leads as the main three and Esther was a close friend of Ryan’s to the point he and Sarah went out briefly in their Senior Year.. when Sarah was 18 thankfully. Though Ryan did get punched over it by a drunken awkard teenager so things sorted themself out. Big Lindsay quitely disappeared and was revealed to have gottten pregnant. Both would later show up in Giant Days. The strip ended, after a soft launch for the next strip which we’ll get to in a second, with Esther and freinds graduating, Ryan and Sarah breaking up, Shelley leaving town (She’d later return but story for another time), and Ryan and Amy, who had a whole will they or won’t they thing, getting together. 

Allison did this for a reason: He felt Scary Go Round was collapsing under it’s mound of Continuity and thus decided to switch to a fresh cast. Same continuity but with less ties to the old so new readers wouldn’t be turned off. Thus came Bad Machinery. Set up during the waning days of SGR, it followed Sarah’s weird sister Lottie, her sluthy best friend Shauna and a bunch of other bright young kids i’m only not getting into because i’ve introduced enough characters and most of the ones i’ve introduced are either vital to SGR or show up in Giant Days , but are all fantastic, focusing more on the mystery while also having some coming of age stuff of it’s own as by the series end years later, the characters all grew into their late teens. It’s an excellent read and again worth checking out if you haven’t and unlike SGR is in print with the print versions adding more pages to the story and revising bits. I haven’t read them but I intend to eventually because of the revisal, but if you can’t afford them the entire originals are online free. 

Bad Machinery would later be a hit in it’s own right, as the print collections show, but in it’s first years it was actually a shaky proposition to uproot everything, replace almost the entire cast (Though Ryan and Amy, now married, stayed around as supporting cast, with Ryan being the kids teacher and Amy eventually mentoring Shauna), and change the genre from 20 somethings and teens slice of life to a bunch of 11-12 year olds coming of age and solving mysteries. And at first things dipped a bit apparently and Allison panicked and started working on a backup plan. And that backup plan was where Giant Days comes in: A Spinoff following esther and two new characters as they navigate college. He did three self published issues of it, the first put online, before focusing back on bad machinery as it picked up, and many other projects we’ll cover some day. Esther as a result was kinda left in limbo while Erin and Eustace’s stories moved forward. It seemed Esther and her new pals Daisy and Susan were lost to time...

Until 2015 when Allison agreed to do a mini-series for Boom! Studios that picked up where the original series left off, eventually getting picked up as an ongoing that lasted all the way to last month, with 2 winter specials, a one shot trip to Australia, and a final one shot finishing the series Wednesday.  As for said series I do own it, Boom has since republished it, and we will get to it.. but I felt given this is where I and probably most other fans of the series came in, it was the best place to start and issue #1 of the boom series recaps what’s come so far and re-introduces the cast well. Kinda like the second episode of a series after the pilot: some things have changed, including the series now having Artist Lisa Tremain on board to draw instead of Allison himself, some new characters have been added, but it’s still the same show and still a good point to start. And with ALLL that exposition out of the way, including exposition to set up characters for ISSUES down the line, and a little more to go, let’s dig in.  As seen at the top, the first cover is great. The yellow and red works well, as does the simple image of a morose Esther fiddling with her phone, boxing gloves on the back for reasons we’ll see shortly. A good genre setter and an excellent cover, something the series always delivers with. 

We open on our three Heroines, on their third week of college,  with a helpful narration that does a good job summing each up, so I don’t have to and you know how I like to jabber, the giant barrage of paragraphs before should be proof: Naive cheerful Daisy, dramatic and funloving esther, and serious and sardonic Susan. There will be, and already is, more to each as they grow and we learn more, and Esther of course has a few years of comics behind her to start, Giant Days even being named after a Esther and Eustace centric arc from Scary Go Round, but not something I could fit into the exposition wall. 

As you can see the ladies are having a nice talk about if they would be friends without living in the same hall, with Susan bursting Daisy and Esther’s bubble.. but it fits her personality. Susan is a realist, she sees the world how it is. Daisy is an optimist seeing the world how it SHOULD be and Esther navigates the space between, as she can be realistic once in a while but mostly tries to avoid reality like the plauge in this series. She had a tad of this in Scary Go Round but it’s really dialed up here, but there’s a good reason for why i’ll get to after Susan helpfully outlines the indie issues for me and new readers.

See this is why I went here first: while I will cover these issues, themselves covering their first three weeks of college, eventually, it covers most of what happened pretty well and makes it easy to fill in the blanks that it glossed over. The first issue did indeed turn into a scott pilgrim style brawl where Esther boxed her way to victory, Susan set someone on fire and Daisy tried to use meditation to fight but Paul Mcartney’s ghost said no. It’s not a bad issue but tone wise the series would be something much more diffrent. 

Issue 2 is where I need to go into more detail: Esther cheated on Eustace with the douchebag you rightfully see in a heap above, who then spread their night around and got his commupance. Esther told Eustace.. who dumped her over it and drove her into a depressive state, a weird heavy metal society, and booze, which she can drink because you can drink at 18 in England. She was saved from it by her new galpals.. and Erin, who was supposed to likely be a recurring character, possibly on the same level as two we’ll get to soon, and definitely figured into a major plot with Daisy, as Allison admitted. But with the gap between issues and having other plans for Erin, he decided to write her out.  Susan pegs Esther as a drama queen soon after, a “sodding drama magnet”, attracting attention like I attract X-Men comics and Kirk Cameron attracts terrible Christian movies designed to stroke his own ego. She proves this by handing her a piece of paper and well....

Well look on the bright side Esther, you have a good career as the bride of dr.doom with those skills. I mean he’s single, has a spooky castle, does magic.. he’s basically a goth’s wet dream he just needs to black up his uniform a bit. Or put on that awful leather made out of a human armor he had. Yes that was a thing. Comics are weird. 

The rest of the group chase after an angry Esther who after this immortal line, challenges Susan to a bet: if Susan wins she gets a nice massage, if Esther wins she gets to dress Susan up however she likes to torment her.

 And somehow DAISY is the one who has a coming out story in a few issues. Jokes aside I do like the friendship here: They’ll razz each other, give Daisy time, and poke at their flaws gently, or be brutally honest, but their truly and honestly friends and it shows. It feels real and it’s one of the series big draws.  The girls run into Esther’s friend Ed. Ed has a huge crush on Esther, even when she had a boyfriend something to the series credit he was called out on, but not the nerves or charisma to actually try and ask her out. Shockingly, I liked, and still liked, Ed a lot as he reminded me of well.. myself in college. Pining after girls or starring without actually going anywhere and the series will deconstruct this as we go. He’s also basically the fourth main character, getting issues focusing entirely on him and arcs of his own, but the girls are still the main focus. Susan freezes however upon seeing his friend...

This is our fifth lead, McGraw. Basically a more emotive and british Ron Swanson who as you can see clearly has a history with Susan and Susan splits before they can say more. While McGraw falls back on the old men streotype of “We don’t have to talk about it”, though unlike say Tim Taylor it’s less “I genuinely believe this nonsense, as well as that men are  incapable of commuincating unless my neighbor tells me otherwise and all loves sports. I unsuprsingly got divorced once the kids all left the house, aug aug aug”  and more “I don’t want to talk about this nor do I want to force my new friend to talk about a touchy subject yet. “ Susan is likewise closed off but in her own special Susan way and Esther reveling in Susan having drama after accusing her of being a drama queen. This ends about as well as you’d expect. 

Daisy has had best friends for all of three weeks and she’s already figured out lies are a key part of friendship. Good for her. Esther heads off for the Gym, and while Daisy declines due to, and i’m not making this up this is a genuinely good joke of john’s, worrying she’ll become a killing machine. Esther however needs it to work out her feelings over Eustace because punching shit is better than wallowing in her misery over loosing the love of her, at this point, short life. 

That panel on the right... that’s a blessed image. And really this image showcases the true heart of the series: as I said the girls are there for each other but it dosen’t feels schmaltzy or forced, it feels real and has plenty of great lines to add to that. Daisy goes back to try talking to Susan, but Susan takes a bit and when she finally works up the energy to visit daisy. 

I I understand that feeling. It’s like the realization Mr. Rogers had sex at least once. You don’t WANT to know something that pure and innocent is capable of fucking, but you do now and it will haunt you like that ghost that won’t stop stealing my soap. BUY YOUR OWN SOAP JEREMY I’M BROKE SON. Of course this wasn’t actually sex stuff as Susan soon relays to Esther as she fears she upset the poor humanoid afro lesbian. 

Side note I love the phrase having a fiddle and will save it for future use. But yeah with Susan somehow spooked, she suggests Esther change the subject as soon as they get in there. 

Susan.. ya brought this on yourself. Naturally she tries to avoid getting into the subject until eventually this happens. 

I’ll be saving this for future reference of course. And Susan gives us a LITTLE to go on... about two panels worth of ominus foreshadowing to the eventual reveal without any actual info about what in the bloody hell actually happened. 

Of course Susan calls for dinner time and says they’ll have to earn the rest later. Naturaly McGraw is also going in for dinner and Susan once again tries to deflect as her friends bascially call him a snack. I mean he is ron swanson crossbred with berkely brethead. who wouldn’t?

I love the line above.. especially since really the comic DOES pass. While there is boy drama, and girl drama for Daisy, this issue has plenty else going on besides wanting to bang someone, though given Esther won’t shut up about McGraw while talking to the human equilveant of an active volcano.. 

She’s lucky she didn’t instead bash her face in with a tray, but she’s a friend after all. Susan saves the savage beatings for her enemies and McGraw is wise enough to not let his tray anywhere near her and to duck if she tried her own. Natrually given her Drama Magnet powers Esther somehow finds the one cowboy in all of England. 

His chivlary, genuine or dudebro wise unfortunately causes a chain reaction. 

Naturally Susan was hoping for something like this, loudly gloating at activating the drama field and at having won the bet and tries to use the high that being right gives a person to run McGraw out of town. 

Unfortunatley for her, while her speech is awesome i’ll admit, it’s also entirely unfair: She expects him to change schools, and given his focus on architecture and general no nonsense nature he choose this one for a reason. Just because you two have a history dosen’t mean you can just make him leave and McGraw, as seen above, isn’t taking it. And he responds just as badassly. 

Gross? A little. But worth it to basically win the argument without even invoking the fact you have the moral highground. Yeah he had to know she was going here too, but again he came her for a reason and has no reason to leave. She can be an adult about this and work past it or just avoid him, also like an adult. Esther, not wanting to deal with Susan’s smug or her rage both of which are probably ping ponging back and forth, sits with Ed and talks about her dramatic nature. She really dosen’t intend to call it on herself, but does like not knowing what will happen every day. 

This really sums up Esther’s character to start: She enjoys life, loves the hell out of it, but often fails to see the consequences of her actions. The drama field sometimes is just shit happening to her because she happens to be young, attractive and entergetic, but other times it happens, like with the blow up of her relationship, because she does something impulsive and it blows up in her face. Speaking of character insight we get a character defening inner monologue from ed. 

And that’s Ed’s pain:  To Esther she sees it genuinely as him just being her friend. And I do think even with his massive crush he genuinely cares about her more than just wanting to be with her, but worried she’ll reject him, as I can again relate. And even worse is the worry of not wanting to make their friendship weird. And i’ve had crushes on female friends that have gone both ways: it’s made things toow eird to continue, but i’ve also had plenty where I was gently turned down and we’re still on good terms to this day. One of my best friends was a result of this. What makes it work, when we’ve seen this plot a thousand times before, is that both the narrative and Ed don’t think he’s ENTITLED to Esther. Yes the above has him asking god to make her love him.. but it’s not in a forceful sense.. it comes off more as a desperate want for them to end up together or for him to be able to move on. It’s what seperates ed from a “nice guy”: Sure he’s into Esther, but he dosen’t think he deserves her, or that because their friends he’s earned her or any such nonsensical bullshit. He’s just hopelesly infatuated with the first girl he met in college and wants to either see where it goes, or have the feelings end so he can move on with someone he does have a future with. I”ve been there. Shit sucks and Allison handles it well without falling into entitlement territory, and given just HOW many geek gets the girl storylines have been written, having it treated realistically with it being treated with him having to get over her instead of her just being oblvious is refreshing and I wish i’d had a narrative like this when I was Ed’s age to smack me in the face and tell me “No it dosen’t work that way, say something or move on man. “ With that monster of a pargraph done let’s check back with the girls. 

Again, I love the character interactions and how that’s the focus here over anything else, even my word sandwitch up there. But speaking of things, Esther just up and asks Daisy what she was watching. Turns out...

Yup, Daisy just likes ASMR, which I now know just what it is, just a static reflex people get. Susan tests it to prove Daisy is normal and it’s just good clean fun. Esther tries to put nosepicking under the same, Elbow’s susan over it and we get this to close out our main trio for the issue. 

I am glad he showed off more lady friendships, but they would’ve been a hell of a couple had Allison went that way. Could be an intresting AU, especailly if you keep Daisy gay and have their being bi or pan, dealers choice, affect things. HOw would that effect their relationshpis, how long would it last, would the McGraw thing impact stuff.. it’s some food for thought is all i[’m saying. We close however on Ed and McGraw as Ron Jr. unpacks his stuff and helps ed with his key sticking by rubbing a pencil on it because Graphite is a lubricant. Huh. Neat. And then we end on this. 

And on that note, we end issue 1. No write in contests though i’m damn sure given he’s mentioned he’d want a ROM/Giant Days crossover for the absurdity John Allison would love that. 

Final Thoughts;  An excellent start to the BOOM! series and a good second pilot. It’s clear stuff happened but the series helps you get the gist well enough to not have to buy the collection of the first three issues, and the characters are all dynamic with plenty of laughs as well as genuine moments. Susan and Esther’s banter is hilarious and both Esther and Susan are given plenty of layers: Esther’s grappling with her sorrow over her nuking her first romance and Susan being sharp witted, quick to be smug with Esther, but still gentle with Daisy and trying to careful with her given her sheltered life before College. Daisy isn’t given much layers in this issue, but is sitll shown to be incredibly sweet and realstically naive. McGraw is a welcome addition, his past with susan providing an intresting mystery for what was intended to be just 6 issues and solved by the end, while also having some intresting swagger to him enough to not make him JUST her love intrest or Ed’s best friend. Tremain’s art is also great, diffrent than what most of the series would end up being, a bit sketchier with more dot eye, but still nice and stylish. I’ll also confess the cafeteria scene is what let me know the book existed as I read it in the back of another boom title, I can’t remember which honestly, wher eit was featured as a preview and was intstantly intrigued. Overall a strong start. There’s a reason the series both caught on and lasted as long as it did and i’ll miss it terribly. I won’t be reviewing as time goes by this week, though I may post some quick thoughts on it, but I intend to review the full series, including the 3 indie issues and specials, so i’ll probably get to it at some point. An excellent series that I can’t recommend enough. 

If you liked this review, feel free to reblog it, follow me for more, or comisson one for a comic of your choice for just 5 bucks. Until then, have some giant days of your own. 

[gotatext]

          whats up ! its ur local feral goblin nora ( 23, she/her, gmt ) bringing u yet another baby i dug out of the trash and vomited onto the dashboard. a fake psychic slash rodeo bull sensation studying at hendrix but born in marfa, texas. luvs wearing gingham print dresses and cowboy boots n always in loads of rings and necklaces w flowers in her hair. very into art and pornography, and particularly the combination of the two. wants to do a PHD on gender studies and female autonomy in porn (yeehaw!). this is a pinterest board. without further ado, here’s frida !

hendrix template.

( cis-female ) haven’t seen FRIDA CALHOUN around in a while. the ELIZA SCANLEN lookalike has been known to be (+) SCHOLASTIC & (+) PLUCKY, but SHE can also be (-) DOGMATIC & (-) SINGLE-MINDED. The 18 year old is a FRESHMAN majoring in GENDER STUDIES & VISUAL ART. I believe they’re living in AUDAX, but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door. ( nora. 22. cowboy time. she/her. ) 

 aesthetics.

a red gingham print dress from your childhood that tugs at the seams and hitches at your thighs. brown cowboy boots still thick with the dirt of a marfa desert. stripper heels decorated with hello kitty stickers. a crystal ball you bought for a dollar from a one-eyed woman at a thrift store. dead flowers clinging to the braids of your hair. a rucksack permanently packed for the move. a streak of red across your lips. roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens. smiling with a mouthful of blood. the female orgasm cut and pasted from pornhub and superimposed onto renaissance art. sweet wrappers scattered over the vinyl seats of an older man’s car. also this pic here is a big frida mood

connection to eva & did they choose her name during the watershed?

study abroad mentor. when frida moved to the netherlands to study, she was assigned a mentor to help her settle into campus life, since she was not of dutch heritage. eva was her mentor for her first few weeks of study, though they weren’t really friends. occasionally they hung out if they saw each other out at night, but they weren’t like... super close.

ok,.... so first up ! despite going to uni in amsterdam, this gal was born and raised in the ole’ U.S of A. she’s from marfa, texas. it’s a very arty place. she was surrounded by art wankers as a child and it kind of educated her to a lot of shit, but also meant she grew up p fast?? like she learned about sex and death and violence from all these art people who thot they were Freeing her Superego n makin a genius child bt rlly.... they shd hav just let her play with dirt rather than showin her artistic representations of the inside of a dead bird.

 BACKSTORY TIME.. her mother was from the wrong side of the tracks, wanted 2 go to art school and started working as an erotic dancer to pay for college but then jst.... ended up staying there. one of those girls u see in the documentaries who had Big Plans but ultimately never got to pursue them n jst got.... sucked in by the money

 frida was raised in dressing rooms surrounded by sparkly costumes and nipple pasties and leotards and the like. as a kid she’d try to trot about in her moms heels n yearned for the day she’d be able to be on stage. 

if you’ve seen pretty baby its a bit similar to tht..... her mom works in a brothel n has her quite young n the expectation is her daughter will probs end up working at the brothel too when she's old enough. no1 really expected frida to get into a good uni or anythin

frida was p much raised by the town, to be honest. most of her youth was spent scurrying about half naked in cowboy boots and glasses too big for her face. a smol feral child

as a kid used to lie about being able to see dead people bcos she thought it’d make her seem cool and interesting to other kids n it got the attention of the girls her mom worked with. but when her mom realised people were willing to actually believe a 7 year old had seen their dead scorned lover, she saw it as an opportunity to swindle some extra cash and registered her as a child psychic n started putting adds out in local papers for palm readings and tarot predictions. 

when her mom hit 30s she couldn't hack being a sex worker any more, so she set up her own fortune telling business and hired a load of the girls from the club to be fake psychics. it was sort of a fortune telling parlour slash brothel, bt they kept tht very under wraps. palm reading upstairs, handjobs downstairs. the reason why some of the women from the strip club agreed to work there was because it was a business actually run by a woman who got what was going on, n not jst someone trying to make quick cash out of old men wanking

as a child, frida was on a few tv shows in the netherlands  making psychic predictions in front of live tv audiences and attempting to reach out to the spirits of their loved ones. this con continued into her teenage years, she even did youtube videos n had minor success, though she was accused of being a cheap horoscope predicter and packed it in shortly after a twitter backlash. 

if pressed, frida still claims to have a gift, but that it's not as simple as switching a light on and off, it comes when it comes, you can't summon it, and that's how she gets out of being labelled a fraud if anyone who recognises her demands a reading.

ws street smart, but also did super well at school? quite charming as a kid and good at winning adults over because of a life growing up basically conning rich white women out of their money just by telling them stuff they wanted to hear. was moved up a grade in junior high and graduated early. attended a summer school, before choosing to study in amsterdam because of the appeal of the red light district. very interested in the lives of sex workers and the way they express themselves. is only a freshman but, is like, 50% through her degree already jst cos she’s..... super passionate about her subject getting recognised as a legitimate brand of academia

she wanted to study gender performativity in the lives of sex workers and plans to do her thesis on the porn industry. it might be because of her childhood, growing up surrounded by sex workers, but she's obsessed with it, looks at mathematical structures and symbols in porn through a lens of politics and art history. very interested in visual art.

some ?mildly amusing? facts

owns 4 tarot decks and a crystal ball she bought frm an old lady with one eye

favourite drink is cherry coke

part of a burlesque collective at hendrix university who run speakeasy nights. is trying to set up her own small-scale grassroots burlesque group in one of the more mainstream clubs along the strip bcos there’s so much money and female tourists go wild 4 it

sells nudes on twitter. whenever she gets low on cash she contacts one of the seedy old men who used to visit her mom's club to venmo her $500 in return for pictures

that girl who’s always harping on about body positivity on instagram while wearing cute underwear and looking absolutely bomb 

really good at rodeo bull riding. the club in marfa had one so as a youth she got really good at it bcos she was constantly tryin to outdo her friends on who could stay on for the longest. a video of her staying on one for like 4 minutes after downing several jager bombs went viral once.

smol baby. 5′4. wears a lot of cute summer dresses n big boots. gingham is her usual dress style, or like red plaid, n then she’ll either have big white cowboy boots with spokes on the back or the really long doc martens. also owns a lot of abba-esque gogo boots and 90s creepers. flats?? who are they. has her hair in braids a lot, and usually has flowers or feathers threaded through it to add to her whole “mystic” vibe

micro-doses acid for mild depression bcos she didn’t believe in “that CBT bullshit”, thought that therapists, like her, were jst con artists so always a bit spaced out

her flirting technique is absolutely offering to read your palm. she used to do it all the time at school its how she met most of her eighth grade boyfriends. 

volunteers at one of the local galleries but mostly just rants to old white dutch men about how cis white men have dominated art for years :/ is one of those SJW-types but only?? when it comes to art?? 

has a pet rat called popeye

takes photographs of dead animals to use in her art and often posts them side-by-side with stills of women in porn to show the shelf-life of female sex workers in a patriarchal-dominated industry or some bullshit idk

big into spoken word poetry, even if its shit. likes savage depictions of femininity

wrote a thesis on art as an act of masturbation that got published 

big into capitalism and commodity culture. loves it.

wanted plots, fucker

ppl who are also studying @ hendrix but speak english !! bcos frida finished her exams a year early at like 17 n just up and left to amsterdam cos she knew if she got in-state tuition she’d never leave texas, she came to the netherlands with like, 40 dollars and a phrase book. eva was kind of her study-abroad mentor to help her settle into amsterdam campus life

ppl she met at an inter-school maths championship competition or something really fuckin nerdy like that. she probably got entered in a spelling bee or two, she was her high school’s pride and joy until people started calling her a slut in toilet door grafiti 

hook-ups !! frida does not do relationships, she had several girlfriends as a kid but she enjoyed the thrill of the chase more than being with one person. pan, but not about befriending straight men. very much fuck-em-and-chuck-em wham-bam-thankyou-ma’am when it comes to guys. that said, if u think ur character cld get under her skin n try n change that by all means be my guest

other ppl who wld be in burlesque with her. also she goes to strip clubs n peep shows like every day, thats basically research for her, so if ur characters would be into strip clubs they might see her there

she volunteers at a few galleries, tht is also a possible place where they cld kno each other from

i feel like she’d be on student council if they had one of those. shes that kind of bitch, turning up like elle woods with a big feather pen or a light-up heart marker, slamming down some truths before upping and leaving to go for her 11am chai latte break

mayb someone she’s trying to coach into being more body confident through self-expression in burlesque.

som1 who attended the art institute in marfa for a summer n maybe knew her when she was a bit younger ??? idk

drama. angst/ horror. someone accuse her of being a fake psychic and she’ll predict your horrific untimely death

nice bike rides in amsterdam please

yea like this if u a) want to plot or b) think the self is as undefinable social construct and i will slide in ur dms to further discus ruckus  x x

[herphdjourney-blog]

What is “Inclusion”?

That question was the focus of this year’s Gender and Diversity in Organizations (GDO) Plenary at the Academy of Management (AoM).

Modupe Akinola, PhD, an Associate Professor of Management at Columbia Business School, said inclusion is: “Feeling like I can be myself and people are curious about my story.” Further, that “inclusion” is when people are not just curious about her identity but also about WHO she is and WHAT makes her who she is.

Derek R. Avery, PhD, the David C. Darnell Presidential Chair in Principled Leadership at Wake Forest University, said that inclusion is “when you can be exactly who you are and it’s OK.”

Other scholars shared insights on inclusion that I’ll touch on in future posts. I recorded the session so that I could cite them in my future work!

But first...under Modupe and Derek’s conceptualization of “inclusion,” let me introduce myself:

My identity:

I am an Afro-Latina, PhD student in organizational behavior, executive/life coach, entrepreneur, dancer, licensed Zumba instructor, traveler, and survivor. I’m from NYC and the daughter of 2 Central American immigrants.

WHO am I?

Hi! My name is Samantha and I am proudly multidimensional.

WHAT makes me who I am?

All of my life experiences these past 43 years.

Yes, I’m 43.

I started my PhD Journey at the age of 41 after 20 years of progressively advancing in nonprofit organizations doing fundraising and communications work on behalf of causes that I care about.

...after 10 years of teaching and performing Latin dance on stages around the world.

...after 2 bachelors degrees and 2 masters degrees.

...after several heartbreaks.

...after 2 near-death experiences.

...and after lots of world travel, including many visits to Costa Rica, where my mother is from, and Panama, where my father was from. He passed away but he was pretty awful during his lifetime (that’s a story for another post). My father’s awfulness & other grown men’s awfulness during my childhood led me to pursue the academic and professional experiences that shaped who I am today.

MY EDUCATION:

My undergraduate degrees are in Psychology and Women’s Studies. My 1st master's degree—was in Women’s History, which I earned in 2 years while working full-time. My 2nd master's degree was in Nonprofit Management. I earned that in 2.5 years while working full-time in an extremely demanding role. Toxic work environments led me to pursue training and certification in life/executive coaching. Now, I am pursuing a PhD in Organizational Behavior.

MY WORK:

I started working at nonprofit organizations during my undergraduate years. Besides the Help Center on my campus, where I volunteered for 3 years, my first off-campus job was an internship at a domestic violence shelter. 

Immediately after college, I worked at a civil rights organization, a homeless shelter for women, and a reproductive health clinic. 

I worked at feminist organizations for a while but although they espoused diversity values, their lack of a racial analysis or an intersectionality framework in practice is what led me to move on to racial/social/reproductive justice organizations. 

My experiences advancing in those organizations is what led me to explore what “leadership” looked and felt like via additional education, workshops, books, blogs, conferences, etc.

Now--I am specifically interested in how people can thrive, not only survive, and I’m both fascinated and saddened by toxic workplaces...as well as by Jeffrey Pfeffer’s book, Dying For a Paycheck.

I study whiteness--not as a skin color but as a phenomenon of power and dominance. I also study thriving/flourishing, allyship, women’s leadership, courage/fragility, rage, love, intersectionality, CEOs, nonprofits, and philanthropy.

MY PASSION:

I have been dancing all of my life. As a kid, I also did gymnastics and cheerleading.

After graduating from undergrad, I also started dancing, teaching, and performing Latin dance around the world. I did that for 10 years until injuries and my intellectual curiosities channeled my attention back to nonprofit organizations and to my first master's degree.

MY DEFINING MOMENTS:

I had my 1st health scare in 2012: blood clots had traveled to both of my lungs from my left leg (a “pulmonary embolism”) but I had NO CLUE that was happening. All I knew was that it felt as though I was having a heart attack. I was hospitalized for a week but then put on blood thinners + watched over by doctors (and my guardian angels) for several years.

That was my 1st wake-up call.

I had been dancing all of my life but stopped and let the “work grind” take over my life. I had been relatively healthy all of my life, so I took my health/wellness/life/blood circulation for granted. My spirit and all of the cells in my body rebelled against me.

After that experience, I was so freaked out that I might die at any moment that I decided to pursue things on my bucket list, including more education and world travels...especially solo world travels, which freaked my doctors AND my Madrina (“godmother” in Spanish) out.

I had my 2nd health scare last year during the 1st year of my PhD Journey...a 2nd pulmonary embolism. You would have thought I had learned my lesson about the pitfalls of sedentary work life the 1st time around, right? 🤦🏽‍♀️ Now I am on blood thinners in perpetuity and more concerned about LIVING (literally staying alive) than I am meeting others’ conceptualizations of “success” in this “publish or perish” academic culture.

I bring all of the above into my PhD Journey, which is why so many of my social media posts are about wellness, self-care, and a #FitPhDJourney.

It’s not that I don’t “grind.” Folks only see the moments when I take a break to capture my life. Not when I’m interviewing research participants for my qualifying paper, analyzing data for my research fellowship, writing papers under huge looming deadlines, coaching clients, working on consulting projects, or laying on my couch depressed and unable to leave my apartment for entire weekends (yes, even coaches are HUMAN).

How do I deal with the stress of this PhD journey?

I try to find moments of peace, joy, and community. Those moments look different for all of us but for me, dance, travel, and adventures have always been my go-to stress relievers. And, since I recently decided to become a licensed Zumba instructor as an act of survival, I also post a lot about Zumba. 💃🏽 I’m aware that my mere existence in this world is resistance to what Max Weber described as the “iron cage” and what Barker & Thompkins described as “concertive control.”

So, circling back to the question of “What is Inclusion?” as I wrap up this very long post...

If we agree with Modupe and Derek’s definition of inclusion (and we should...BUT I will also share other scholars’ insights on other elements of “inclusion” in future posts, which may resonate in other ways with you), then I have questions for you:

Taking intersectionality into account when understanding the multidimensional nature of oppression, what are the implications for mentoring [PhD] students who have various racial, ethnic, gender, family, nationality, professional, academic, and life experiences?

How do we support [PhD] students in their various journeys in ways that challenge them and prepare them for the future THEY want without putting them in the aforementioned “iron cage” of “concertive control”?

If culture and socialization work as unconscious filters shaping our perceptions, how do you engage in reflexivity and mentor people who may or may not look like you...and may or may not want to BE like you “when they grow up” even though you’re amazing?

More to come on “inclusion” in future posts…

xoxo, Samantha

[symphonic-scream]

Turning Point (150 follower Special)

It's been maybe eight years since they all graduated together. Eight years since they took down the League of Villains. Eight years since since they all stood arm in arm as they left UA campus for the last time as 3A.

Its surreal, to Hitoshi. He may not have been in 1A from the start, but he considers the others his family; almost moreso than his foster parents. He'd met his husband, his best friends, and even his mentor there. And it's been over for eight years.

Of course, they see each other all the time. A month after graduation, they were all dancing and drinking the night away in a hotel ballroom, celebrating the wedding of Katsuki and Eijirou. A few weeks, and Izuku and Shouto. Then Tsuyu and Ochako.

Hitoshi could list them all, but there were so many weddings. He himself had married the love of his life, Mashirao, just less then a year after graduating. It wasn't just weddings. Every three months, they'd host a big dinner and sleepover, and the whole class would (schedules permitting) spend the night with their UA family.

It was one such night. It was going to be the first one since graduation that they'd all be there for the entire night, which made it special. Tenya had even handed planning over to Mina and Tooru, despite being present at their first rager in their third year.

And Hitoshi couldn't wait.

He and Mashirao were a little late, coming from the next city over, but still managed to get in before Momo, Kyouka, Katsuki and Eijirou. It seemed as if the most punctual couples were dead last, which of course led to tons of small jokes once they showed up ten minutes later.

The first portion was a free area, for catching up. Hitoshi found himself engrossed in a conversation with Denki, who was waving his arms wildly as he explained why Hanta was wrong, and he should definitely grow a super rad soul patch.

"It'll be legendary, bro!" The sparkster grinned, showing another picture of some movie star with the facial feature. "I'll look like a model! My fans will go wild!"

Kyouka, who had been sitting and listening in, snorted, lightly digging her fist into his arm. "As if, Pikachu. You'll just look like a pervert."

He whined, turning his full attention on the punk lesbian. "Kyo! No! I'll look hot as hell!"

"Then why is Hanta so against it?" Hitoshi added his two cents. If the man's husband was against it, there had to be a reason.

Denki froze, before stumbling through a rushed response. "He's just jealous cause he knows I'll be the hot one! He knows he'll never let me leave our bed!"

Kyouka's nose scrunched up, making a sound of disgust. "Dude, too much. And I can guarantee it's because he knows you'll look like a pedophile."

Hitoshi snuck away as Denki practically weaped his defense out, as he already knew the result. He'd look like everyone on the sex offender list. He passed by Yuuga, Mina, and Mashirao on his way to the kitchen of their rented beach house, hoping to find a drink, and maybe someone who he hadn't seen in the last few months.

He was successful on both fronts, running into Ochako and Katsuki, who were cracking open beers after their reunion sparring. Both were glimmering with sweat, but had matching grins on their faces.

"Mind Fucker." Katsuki greeted, taking a sip of his alcohol. That was his 'fun' nickname for Hitoshi, and despite being a little harsh, it was far better than 'Dopey', or 'Half-and-half bastard', both of which had survived the tests of time.

"Murder Bitch." He responded in kind, causing the blond to smirk in approval. "So, who won this time?"

Ochako grinned wider, nudging her partner in the ribs. "I got the best of him this time. Katsuki here got distracted, and I knocked him down easily."

Katsuki just grunted in response, running a hand roughly through her once presentable hair. "Yeah, and if I hadn't, it would've been me acting all smug."

The pair laugh, and Hitoshi marvels in how far Katsuki has come. From an angry, arrogant, mean ass hat to this. It was impressive.

"So, Hitoshi." Ochako began, turning the attention of the conversation on him. "How's life been treating you?"

"Pretty well, actually." And it was the truth. "Mashiro and I just made a down payment on a house, and we're thinking of maybe adopting one day."

Katsuki's eyebrows drew inwards, as Ochako gasped. "Oh! Hitoshi, that's so exciting!"

He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling lightly. "Yeah, we actually started talking because we heard Neijire and Yuuyu announced the birth of their daughter in May."

Their once seniors had gone public about their second child, but had yet to go into further details with the press. As an old friend, Hitoshi knew both children were biological, due to long term successionn planning on Yuuyu's part.

"The same for me and Tsu!" Ochako giggled, holding her hands to her cheeks. "Except, well, we're her godparents, and we thought about having our own!"

Hitoshi smiled, although the look Katsuki was giving them was off-putting. "What about you, K.E.M., have you and Ei talked about having kids?"

Katsuki, sticking to his favourite form of communication, grunted. "None of your damn business."

Huh. Well, that was one way to answer.

Soon, they were all called together for group games, which usually started as Never Have I Ever and ended with drunken screaming. Last year at their April meeting, Fumikage had gotten drunk far too quickly, and watched the rest of the game perched on the fridge, throwing individual Fruit Loops at the group.

Tooru, ever the enthusiastic hostess, had everyone's choice drink ready, even providing Momo with a non-alcoholic fruit juice. Strange. Momo hadn't opted out of alcohol during these games since Kyouka introduced her to the idea of mixing it into fruit juices.

"Never have I ever," Tooru began, curling into her wife's side, a bottle of tequila sitting on the coffee table between their matching glasses. "Cheated on my Significant Other."

No one drank of course, but Mina did have a cheesy grin on her face as she gave her wife a kiss. She cleared her throat, obviously ready for her turn. "Never have I ever had an elemental quirk."

Shouto, Denki, Katsuki, and Momo all took a shot, although Momo had to defend her claim.

"I create matter, which requires the elements." She explained, folding her hands into her lap.

It went like that for a couple more turns, with very few actually having to drink, except for when Katsuki pulled the "never have I ever not been Bakugou Katsuki" move.

Now it was Kyouka's turn, and the most tipsy person in the room was Denki. Kyouka whispered something to her wife, who nodded at her before taking her hand.

"Never have I ever been pregnant."

The whole room watched in shock and amazement as Momo straight up took a swig from her bottle of watermelon juice. It was silent for a few moments, everyone's dazed minds stumbling towards a connection.

"Yaomomo!" Kouji gasped, excitement pouring out of him in waves. Then it clicked for Hitoshi. Momo was pregnant.

"No way!" Mina cried, rocketing forwards in her seat. "You guys!"

Kyouka and Momo flushed, grinning as they folded into each other. Momo was practically glowing, half to tears.

Izuku's eyes were comically wide as he leaned over Shouto to get a better look at the apparent mothers-to-be. "How far along?"

"About three months." Kyouka stated with pride, placing one of her hand protectively over her wife's belly. "Our due date's in March."

Excited chatter erupted throughout the room, until in was shut down by Katsuki standing up, and stalking towards the couple. He shook his head, before pointing a finger directly at Momo. "Thought you could steal the spotlight, did you?"

Momo laughed, pushing his hand back. "Be thankful, we gave you an opportunity. Now you won't have to start any awkward interruptions."

Okay, now Hitoshi was confused. What on Earth could that mean?

Katsuki pulled Eijirou up from his spot on on of the beanbag chairs Denki had dragged in. "We're expecting too. Same program."

"Program?" Ochako squeaked, torn between confusion and happiness.

"The new research about gays, quirks and kids." Eijirou explained, taking his husband's hand nervously. "We all volunteered to be the first cases, and, well, it worked!"

Hanta cheered, spilling his drink over Denki as he careened sideways. "I can't believe it!"

Both sets of parents-to-be beamed, before the questions came up again.

The game was at the back of everyone's mind, as the remaining of their group congratulated the expecting parents. Hitoshi waited for the group to dissipate more before making his way over to Kyouka and Momo.

"Congrats to you, ladies." He greeted, smiling softly.

Kyouka grinned as Momo giggled. "Why, thank you, Hitoshi."

"Yeah, wicked thanks, dude."

Hitoshi let his eyes drift to the small photo in Kyouka's hand. "Is that an ultrasound image?"

Momo's eyes lit up, coaxing her wife into lifting the photo to allow Hitoshi to see it. It was black and white, as ultrasounds are, but the vaguely human shaped spot in the centre is what truly made his heart skip a beat.

"Wow," he muttered, in awe of the small form. "Do you, I mean, know? The sex?"

Kyouka nodded, tucking the photo back into her wallet. "We're going to be having a son."

"Oh my." Hitoshi was, for once, without words. Nothing could describe the feeling bubbling in his chest. He raised his eyes back to his friends, the women who were going to be having a son in March. "You're going to be wonderful parents. He's a very lucky boy."

Momo teared right up, offering a watery smile. "Thank you, Hitoshi, thank you so-"

Mina slammed into the couple at that point, squealing up a storm. "You guys, you guys, you guys!" Tooru, Tsuyu, and Ochako quickly followed, crowding their fellow women.

Leaving the women to be swarmed by the other four, Hitoshi turned his attention on the men of the hour. He's overheard them mention they we're in the early weeks, and it was 50/50 whether it would stick or not.

It was a lot to take in. Momo and Kyouka, and Katsuki and Eijirou were going to be parents in less than a year. It felt like they had graduated just yesterday, but the news struck the firm number of eight years into his mind. How had the time flown right past him?

Hitoshi shook his head. No, it had crept. Every moment without them was awful. But, he had a suspicion it wouldn't be that way for long. With two legacy babies on the way and multiple couples planning, Hitoshi knew they were going to get closer once more.

And, later, when he's carrying a young, sleeping Kazuya back home after a particularly exhausting playdate, Hitoshi muses that he had been right. Their children were strengthening the bonds between them once more.

[kuathletics]

#OneTeam - Marlene Mawson

Q: You recently wrote an initial draft for your book titled, “Marlene’s Mission: Launching Women’s Athletics at the University of Kansas.” Where did that inspiration come from?

A: The reason I began writing this book is because of Candace Dunback, who is the Senior Director of K Club and Traditions at KU. She heard me speak on many occasions and asked if I’d written any of the stories down that I’ve told. Since I hadn’t, I decided to write the stories down and I realized the stories needed some context. Since I put in the context, I realized I had more than a simple story and that turned into 12 chapters.

Q: How did you get involved with speaking at KU?

A: Most of my experience has come from people who know my background and were interested in me sharing that with other people. I have addressed several sports management classes, graduate classes, and so forth over the years. As far as speaking at a public forum, the Welcome Club of Lawrence asked me to be a program speaker for them. I was very surprised because the only standing ovation and applause from that was usually some kind of theater or entertainment. When I was done speaking there, I received a standing ovation and I was overwhelmed thinking to myself, “I just told you my story.” When I taught at KU, the Kiwanis was a men’s service club. The department chair would take all of the men faculty out every Thursday afternoon but the women didn’t get to go. This was pre-Title IX, of course, but I don’t think it would have mattered because Title IX wouldn’t have covered that. It’s kind of a networking thing when it comes to speaking because people pass things on to other people, and so forth.

Q: What about your sports management speaker series?

A: My sports management speaker series started with my faculty at Illinois State. An alumnus who had passed away left a rather large grant and her estate to women’s education. We established a speaker series to honor her, who would always be a woman. We really liked this idea, and I brought this idea to Jordan Bass, who is the sports management program director. He loved this idea too so we decided to do it annually. It’s designed to bring a nationwide, notable scholar to KU to meet with classes and deliver a public address in the evening. It’s the second annual one in October and it will be Kathy Elias from the University of Michigan. She’s an expert in the social sciences in sports management. We intend for it to continue.

Q: You’re seen as a very influential and inspirational figure to a lot of people, so I’m wondering did you have your own “Marlene Mawson” growing up?

A: No, I didn’t. In terms of having a role model in women’s athletics, there weren’t any. My male physical education teacher in high school was the coach of every team because my high school was rather small. There were only 100 kids in high school, so there weren’t enough boys in high school to even field a football team. I grew up thinking girls could play the same sports as boys because we had an indoor sport in basketball, and an outdoor sport in softball. So I only had a coach who was a male, and he coached all the boys and girls’ teams. We all went on the same bus, and we didn’t know there was any discrimination until I went to college, where I learned they didn’t do this for girls after you got out of high school.

Q: What drives your competitive spirit?

A: I grew up as a twin. My twin was not competitive at all, and we were competitive with our sisters since I had seven siblings, who were all girls. My father always impressed on us that nobody was better than us, and that we could be the best we could be and that he expected that of us. It started with our older sister, he insisted that we would all go to college because funding for college is a better investment for us than him leaving us money. We all graduated from college, and my older sister was 20 years older than me, she went to school when women didn’t really go to school. My incentive and competitive spirit in sports and life is to always be striving to be the best that I can be. It may not be perfect, but I’m going to be as perfect as I can be.

Q: How far did your women’s budget of $2,000 go?

A: First of all, it sounds like just a penny now. You could buy a meal at a restaurant for $2.50, so you have to squeeze it into the time. We used it for uniforms, travel and entry fees into postseason tournaments. That’s basically what it covered and we borrowed equipment from the physical education department. Most of our expenses were turned in on travel allotment budgets, but we did have an initial expenditure for uniforms, which allowed us to purchase one set of uniforms for team members. Basketball, volleyball and softball were the only sports that used uniforms.

Q: Did you get the sense in 1972 that Title IX would be a groundbreaking moment?

A: I knew something big was happening. Across the country in 1972, there were workshops for the office of civil rights to explain the compliance rules to people who realized they would need to make major changes. Those major changes came in physical education and athletics as well as music. Generally, high schools and colleges had to be in compliance but it wasn’t until 1978 that this happened. So even though Title IX became law in 1972, the compliance regulations were written in 1973 so there were still five years where nobody had to be in compliance. There were basically gradual increments of compliance during those five years and in 1978 most universities weren’t in compliance. The women’s athletic director at K-State was the first to launch a lawsuit on her own university for not being in compliance. Fifty more colleges filed suit in that same month, July 1978. From there, the office of civil rights changed the compliance rules and said, “Well, I guess you don’t have to be in compliance this date. As long as you’re showing progress towards compliance, we won’t charge you with sending federal funds to your university.” It took almost decade for the law to be enforced for Title IX.

Q: What kind of bond was there between coach/student in the 1960s?

A: Well, you coached your own team. We didn’t have coaching meetings because we taught all day together. If there was a bond, it was a matter of being a part of a physical education department and the extra duty was the athletics part. When you took your team some place, you didn’t have room for more coaches to come along. You used to get compensation for the number of vehicles you could crowd your team into so you didn’t have an athletic trainer or equipment person to come along. There’s more people helping now than there are on the team. So, I was basically doing all of it.

Q: Who was your greatest male supporter at KU over the years?

A: Probably Henry Shenk. He was the department chair who hired me and the department chair of physical education. He agreed to put $2,000 into women’s athletics and whatever I asked him, he was willing to provide as long as there were budgeted funds for it. He took out funds from his own departmental budget to help me. There were men who didn’t oppose you up front, but they didn’t help either. As long as you weren’t in their way, go ahead and do it. When I started this program on campus, there were two gyms in Robinson and one court in Allen Fieldhouse and that was it on campus. The men and women’s intramural programs, as well as women’s athletics, had to use those Robinson courts. We’re talking about two courts and that’s why there was some confrontation when men used to be on the court when it was our time to practice. Sometimes I had to say, “Hey, your time’s up.”

Q: Would you say there was any outright discrimination toward you?

A: I wouldn’t say discrimination, it’s more of confrontation. More of, “We wanted to practice here, why is there gymnastics equipment on the floor?” So if I ever had confrontation, it was usually with Bob Lockwood, who is my great friend now. We were friends then and he was my colleague who taught in the same department as me. He needed the Robinson space and I needed the space, so that’s all it was.

Q: Can you describe the feeling of being inducted into the Hall of Fame in 2009 and walking across James Naismith Court?

A: The first time it was rather overwhelming to me was when they inducted me into the KU Hall of Fame. I was standing out there and realizing that this happened a long time ago, but it’s just now becoming important. I’m thinking that when I did what I did, it wasn’t with the idea that I would be standing here. It was with the idea that women athletes would be on this court, not with the idea that it would be me. I guess that sums up how I felt. The first time I really was acknowledged was in 2008 when they started the Marlene Mawson Exemplary Student-Athlete Award and it showed me it’s all about the athlete.

Q: Do you consider yourself a pioneer in sports?

A: I don’t know if I thought about it that way back then, but then KU gave me the Emily Taylor Pioneer of the Year. So that’s when I first thought about that word, “Pioneer.”

Q: What do you think your role will be now in this modern age of collegiate sports and women’s athletics?

A: I think that maybe what you said earlier about a mentor is that if anything, I want to be an example or a (role) model for young women. I think of all the KU athletes who are greater in fame than me like Joan Wells, who went on to Lawrence High School and won 17 state championships in volleyball. She was one of the players who played when I coached and I always put her in the serving position because she was a steady, competitive person. She had a great influence as a captain on the team. At one time, I had three students I had in grad school who were coaching at the Division I level. People look at me as a mentor, but I look at them as the pros who went on after college.

Q: Do you go to a lot of KU sports during the school year?

A: Oh, I go to everything (laughs). I go to volleyball, basketball, soccer and softball. I try to sit up high enough in the stands so they don’t hear me coaching.

Q: Is that the coach in you who brings you back to these games?

A: Well, when you know the game and the strategies they’re using, you follow the players not even based on their numbers, but on the way they move. It’s the way you see the game as a coach and to get well-acquainted with them. It’s how you feel it, and you miss it when it’s not there.

Q: What are your thoughts on Rock Chalk Park?

A: I watched the construction up there, and I was really glad this was happening. When it got to the point when they were laying the turf down, I had the opportunity to walk up the ramp where you can see both the soccer and softball fields. It just took my breath away. It was thrilling to see that these two terrific facilities were built just for women. It wasn’t a hand me down or share with somebody else. They were for our KU teams. I think back to softball --we played on the field where the sand volleyball courts are now. The field hockey field was where the computer science building was. None of the fields were leveled, so there was a slope going end to end. Think of trying to hit a baseball along the ground where the field was turf but not planted. It was a clumpy field. So I’m walking up the ramp (at RCP) thinking, “Wow, can you even believe it? Could you even have imagined this could be?” It was just thrilling.

[sociologyontherock]

Of Time and Serendipity: Sociological Roots and Surprising Swerves

By Anne Martin-Matthews

In October 2018, I stood on the stage of the Corner Brook Arts and Culture Centre at a Memorial University Convocation ceremony as Dr. Holly Pike, a professor of English at the Grenfell Campus, gave a 10 minute “oration” on my career. I was receiving an Honourary Degree. Her perspective on my career was fascinating (certainly to me, anyway!), in its clever juxtaposition of prospective and retrospective views of time, and how I have integrated both throughout my career. It conveyed a sense of consistency and logic to ways of thinking that I had (apparently) manifested throughout my career – something that I had certainly not “seen” (in myself) before. Few of us have the opportunity of hearing others describe us, and our careers, in this way – with a perspective that was, with Dr. Pike’s deft touch, both thoughtful and reflective (without boring the young graduating class). 

At the time, I was keenly aware of how social gerontology considers reminiscence as part of a life-review process, a typical aspect of socialization for old age. Often thought to be an inherently internal, psychological process, reminiscence is generally considered to be adaptive, enabling individuals to assess and reintegrate their lives. A well-known sociologist of aging, Victor Marshall, advanced understanding of a life review as much more than a mental process. He re-conceptualized it as a social process: not just thinking about the past, but also engaging with others in talking about the past, where in true symbolic interactionist fashion others help us in confirming or (re)defining our lives: “When people get help from others in re-writing their auto-biographies, they are more likely to develop ‘a good story’ of their lives” (Victor Marshall, 1980, Last Chapters: A Sociology of Aging and Dying). 

                                              Anne Martin-Matthews

This life review of a sociologist’s career is in response to Stephen Riggins’ invitation to write for this newsletter. However, my agreeing to do so, with my own reminiscences and reflections, was prompted by a recent sequence of events. First, in July 2018 came the 40-year milestone anniversary of my first academic appointment, at the University of Guelph. The death of Victor Marshall, my doctoral supervisor, mentor and collaborator, in August 2018, was a genuine loss, and prompted my reflections on how his life and career had impacted my own, as I collaborated with long-time colleagues in publishing about him in the Canadian Journal on Aging (2019, 38(2)). Then, in October, the MUN convocation oration mentioned above. And so, in this process of reminiscence and life review, I hope to convey the “good story” of the career that Newfoundland, Memorial University, and sociology have given me.

Time – and timing – are central features of enquiry for those of us interested in the sociology of aging/social gerontology. In research on aging, we make distinctions between age, cohort and period effects. “Age effects” reflect changes (typically, physical) with the passage of time (typically measured as time since birth; more recently being measured retrospectively in time from death). “Cohort effects” are related to the historical time of a person’s birth, with those born around the same time often sharing a common background and view of the world. So, I am a baby boomer – and that tells you a lot about me, my habits, values and lifestyle. Finally, “period effects” are due to time of measurement, when circumstances and events may have different influences on different age cohorts. So many aspects of (what I now look back on as) a wonderful, dynamic, stimulating career have been influenced by my experience of cohort and period effects. 

Typically, I have attributed these influences to a fortuitous serendipity of timing. I was born in St. John’s two years after Newfoundland joined Canada. Thus, I started at MUN in September, 1967, in the glow of Canada’s Centennial Year celebrations, and benefiting from Premier Joey Smallwood’s offer of free tuition to Newfoundlanders as first-year students. My career aspiration was to become a journalist, and hence I enrolled as an English major (taught by prominent Newfoundland scholars such as Patrick O’Flaherty). 

As a requirement of my English major, I had to take an Introduction to Sociology and Anthropology course. That brought me to the memorable day of social anthropologist Elliott Leyton’s introduction to the concept of “cultural relativity.” On the board, he wrote: “Nothing that you have ever been taught is true.” This notion truly challenged me – a product of an Irish Catholic family and a Catholic convent-school education – on multiple levels. There was a world view that was an inherent part of being an Irish Catholic in Newfoundland back then; one of the very first things you would know about a person (reflected in their name, or at the very least, which school – in a parochial school system – they attended) was: “are you Protestant or Catholic?” The concept of cultural relativity brought another level of understanding and insight about others’ beliefs, values, and practices. Concepts such as this hooked me on the idea of switching my major to sociology! 

In the maze of portable buildings (where the QEII Library now is), at the entrance to the Department of Sociology, graduate students in the department had, at some point in the early 1970s, erected a banner: “Welcome to the Department of Sociology: Home of the Minnesota Mafia.” The banner’s message reflected the many connections between the two sociology departments: Minnesota-trained faculty (such as Roger Krohn and Noel Iverson) had left MUN before my time; but during my two years as a sociology Major (1969-1971), Minnesota-trained faculty included Ralph Matthews, Jack Ross, Robert Stebbins and Fraine Whitney. Other (then) current Minnesota faculty were visiting professors at MUN: I remember a fascinating 1970 summer course in Urban Sociology taught by Gregory Stone, who brought his family to St. John’s and attracted much attention, driving around in a converted hearse, painted white. 

One course in particular was an especially impactful experience for me: Fraine Whitney’s research methods class. There, he offered us an opportunity to help Morgan Williamson, a graduate student in sociology, to complete the data collection for his Master’s thesis – subsequently completed under the title “Blackhead Road: A Community Study in Urban Renewal” (1971). Several of us volunteered to be trained to conduct interviews on “the Brow” (now known as Shea Heights). The Brow was a completely “other world” back then: dilapidated housing, no water and sewer facilities, known even then for its “night soil” trucks and what were called “honey buckets.” The lack of basic sanitation services, and the poverty of the living conditions of residents, was unlike anything I had seen in St. John’s. But the people were quite welcoming, and gave me an exceptional opportunity to experience first-hand how sociological inquiry could advance insight and understanding. As I completed my assigned roster of interviews, I became increasingly committed to the idea of a career in sociology.

There were comparatively few female professors during my undergraduate years at Memorial, and in sociology the only one was Lithuanian-born Marina Gorodeckis-Tarulis (briefly at Memorial before returning to her home in Venezuela). In a one-on-one directed studies course that I took with her in the fall of 1970, she strongly encouraged me to consider application to graduate school – an option that I had been completely unaware of prior to that. No other professor had ever, in any way, implied that I might possess the aptitude for a graduate career.

Eventually, I accepted an offer of admission from the Department of Sociology at McMaster University. That decision was influenced by a combination of several factors: McMaster’s generous offer of scholarship support; Hamilton’s proximity to Toronto (where my Dad, who was in the hardware business in St. John’s, would periodically come for trade shows); the familiarity of other MUN sociology grads “going to Mac” too (though, ultimately, they’d be homesick and leave before Christmas); and one of the MUN professors, Ralph Matthews, was moving there too. (I might add that I was third on the “alternate” list for admission to McMaster, after all their “first choices” had made their decisions. This fact – and the subsequent requirement that I take additional sociology courses to make up for the deficiency of a 4-year MUN degree that was not an “Honours” degree – made my receipt, 25 years later, of McMaster’s Distinguished Alumnus Award, all the more sweet, I must say.) 

Although I could not have known it at the time, what would become the framing for my entire academic career was, in fact, cast almost immediately upon my arrival in Hamilton. First, I rented a flat in the home of an elderly widow, Mrs. Pelma Erskine, and quickly became aware of – and at times immersed in – her social world of older (often widowed) women, their mutually supportive friendship styles and their issues and concerns. 

Second, I enrolled in Victor Marshall’s sociology course on Phenomenology and Ethnomethodology, and chose to present one of the elective readings, David Sudnow’s book Passing On: The Social Organization of Dying. This is an ethnographic study of “death work” in an acute care hospital, and the relevant social treatment associated with dying. Both these experiences opened my eyes to aspects of living as an older person (and a woman, especially) and to the social aspects of dying and death in modern society.

While I retained my core interest in social and organizational aspects of transitional life events and my commitment to my Master’s research on Newfoundland migrants living in Ontario, I was greatly impacted by the timing of a period effect. Almost simultaneously, numerous countries were establishing professional organizations to promote the study of aging and gerontology; Canada was no exception, with the establishment of the Canadian Association on Gerontology (CAG) in 1972. 

A newly-minted PhD himself, Victor Marshall was highly involved in building this new field in Canada, and as a founding member of the CAG. His scholarship and enthusiastic advocacy of studies of aging quickly engaged a cadre of my fellow graduate students in sociology at McMaster. The field of social gerontology and the sociology of aging was, quite literally, born in Canada just as I embarked on my graduate studies and, in working with Victor Marshall, I was right at “ground zero.” 

No courses yet existed, but I became the Teaching Assistant for the special topics in an “Age-Related Studies” course that Victor Marshall offered at McMaster in 1972, and the next year I enrolled in his graduate directed-readings course, unofficially known as “sociology of aging.” While I took the course out of personal interest (with no particular aspiration beyond that), in the process I researched and wrote a lengthy paper on role changes associated with widowhood in later life – with the purpose of collating and synthesizing a body of inter-disciplinary research (much of it, social psychological) on widowhood. Constructs of role exit, role loss, and widowhood as essentially a “roleless role” pervaded the literature. I became interested in whether role change (or “exit”) was in fact the basis of identity change in widowhood, or if, rather, a redefinition of self, along with the behaviours of particular others and attitudes and structures of society in general, contribute to the social (re)construction of self and identity. 

In 1974 (after being “advanced” to the doctoral program and completing PhD course work before I had even started collecting data for my Master’s degree), I completed the MA thesis (“Up-along: Newfoundland Families living in Hamilton, Ontario”), based on interviews with 61 Newfoundland families who had migrated in the previous two decades. (The interview data are now on file in MUN’s Centre for Newfoundland Studies.) I applied Frederic LePlay’s constructs of “stem” and “branch” families, to understand ties to Newfoundland and extent to which Newfoundlanders had established a community (formal and informal) in Hamilton and area. And, indeed, many study participants told me that, “lately, we’re tending to see more of foreign people, too” – foreign people, in this case, meaning non-Newfoundlanders. 

On the other hand, I was quite intrigued to find evidence of another pattern: Newfoundland migrant families told me, “The last three years have made a difference with the Newfoundlanders here. With the children growing up and getting married, you go to your children’s houses to visit, instead of your friends…. You visit the kids, and if there’s time, you see your [Newfoundland] friends later. Then the hours are gone when you would have been together.” Quite unexpectedly, then, I was confronted with a generational, age-related explanation for what otherwise might have appeared to be evidence of assimilation of Newfoundlanders into the social life of Hamilton. 

While I had hoped that the issues identified in that early widowhood research paper would be the basis of my doctoral dissertation, external constraints rendered this impossible. My PhD studies, initiated when I was still completing the Master’s research on Newfoundland migrants in Hamilton, were funded through a doctoral fellowship in Urban and Regional Affairs, from the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation. CMHC, understandably, expected my continuing research focus on issues of housing, migration, or urban affairs. In my original proposal to CHMC, I had proposed to study women’s experiences of long-distance family relocation. Thus in order to keep my funding, I pragmatically decided to rekindle my interest in this topic, completing a doctoral dissertation applying Barney Glaser and Anselm Strauss’ concept of status passage (1971) to examine women’s experiences of relocation and the “moving career.” My commitment to research on aging would have to come in my post-graduate life, it seemed. 

I have described, in some detail, this early stage of my career, the stage of developing my sociological roots and training, because, in fact, this was to be the most consistently and overtly sociological phase of my career. For, in 1978, I swerved.

In her best-selling book Becoming (2018), Michelle Obama describes several swerves in her own life: consciously making an abrupt change of direction, often involving moving away from a previously chosen career path. In 1978, on the job market, still ABD at Mac, and only seeking academic work within a 100-kilometre radius of my home life in Hamilton (I had married Ralph Matthews in 1974), I received two job offers from the University of Guelph. One was a one-year contract as a Lecturer in the Department of Sociology; the other, a two-year contract as a Lecturer in the Department of Family Studies. The position in Family Studies would allow me to teach courses in social gerontology. 

The opportunity to teach social gerontology prevailed. As a result, I spent the next 30 years of my career (20 of them at Guelph, 10 at UBC) in more “applied” social science departments, working alongside colleagues with training in economics, psychology, sociology, education, nutrition and dietetics, and focusing on issues of the life course, aging and behaviour. 

But here, once again, the serendipity of timing propelled my career forward. When the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada launched its Strategic Grants Division in 1980, one of the three themes identified was in “Population Aging”! It took a bit of doing to persuade the Senate of the University of Guelph to endorse a proposal initiated by a couple of untenured Assistant Professors in the Department of Family Studies, supported by a senior colleague in sociology and another in psychology – but they did. We developed a competitive bid and won in the 1982 competition (competing against the University of Toronto, I should add). I led the Gerontology Research Centre at the University of Guelph for 12 years, from 1983 until 1995. 

Yes, the research and scholarship were primarily “applied social science,” but those years certainly provided me the opportunity to bring a sociologically-informed perspective to my research on aging and later life. And, in a research context that was becoming ever more focused on multi-, inter- and trans-disciplinary research, I gained valuable experience in collaborating with geographers, psychologists, family economists, and even researchers in nutrition education and public health. This proved useful when, in 1990, I became one of four Co-principal Investigators on CARNET: the Canadian Aging Research Network. CARNET was the first Network of Centre of Excellence led by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council, and including, among its 26 network members, researchers funded by all three federal funding councils. This level of multi-disciplinary collaboration was unprecedented at the time.

Throughout those years, I maintained my own active research program (independent of the Gerontology Research Centre): writing a book on Widowhood in Later Life; publishing with my doctoral students (some with backgrounds in sociology) and colleagues on the gendered nature of filial care, care and caregiving, social supports in later life, aging and health behaviour, home and community care. Female colleagues in the sociology of aging (Ingrid Connidis, Western; Carolyn Rosenthal, McMaster; and Sarah Matthews at Cleveland State University) assured me that my work was sociological, even as I doubted that I was, any longer, a real sociologist. I recall that my doctoral supervisor, Victor Marshall, who maintained a strong reputation as a sociological theorist while active in research on aging, occasionally let me know that I was going a bit too far into “this caregiving stuff.” 

And, of course, I collaborated with Ralph Matthews on several research initiatives – the most substantial being a SSHRC-funded study titled “Social and Psychological Responses to Infertility and its Treatment.” Ralph, indeed, likes to remind me that, despite my many publications in social gerontology and the sociology of aging, my highest citation is of a publication with him titled “Infertility and involuntary childlessness: The transition to non-parenthood,” Journal of Marriage and the Family, 1986, 48(3): 641-649.

Despite all those years outside a Sociology Department, a major source of academic connection for me became the Research Committee on Aging of the International Sociological Association (ISA). I found a true scholarly and intellectual home there, alongside colleagues with “real” sociological credentials and affiliations. Research Committee 11 provided the perfect context for presentation and discussion of my scholarly interests, the focus on the study of aging in multiple contexts, but quite explicitly within a sociological frame.

By the time I was elected President of the ISA Research Committee on Aging (2010-2014), I had spent more than a decade at the University of British Columbia. Again, there was some serendipity at play in that process: with an email unexpectedly landing in my inbox at the University of Guelph in the fall of 1996, inviting applications for the position of Director of the School of Family and Nutritional Sciences in the Faculty of Agricultural Sciences at UBC. (The School at UBC was much like the department in which I had spent nearly 20 years at Guelph.) Although another swerve, this time into academic administration, was not something I had ever considered, it became a vehicle for a mid-career move at a time when I was ready for a change. So, instead of moving east (as we had long thought we might do one day), Ralph and I, with two teenagers and a dog, headed west to Vancouver in December 1997. 

Having assumed that moving to such a large, research intensive institution after nearly 20 years at a much smaller one would guarantee anonymity (a new little fish in a VERY big pond), I was surprised by the array (and pace) of challenges, opportunities, and some quite unanticipated swerves of those early UBC years. Within six years, I was in the Faculty of Arts, serving as Associate Dean, Research and Graduate Studies, and then, for 10 months, Dean pro tem. Surprisingly (!) enjoying some aspects of academic administration, but worried about its impact on my research career (which I was not yet prepared to abandon), I was just settling back into life as a “regular” faculty member, when the opportunity for making the most unlikely swerve in my career, unexpectedly came along.

It began, of course, with another coincidence of timing, another period effect. In June 2000, the Medical Research Council of Canada and the National Health Research and Development Program of Health Canada (from which I had received funding) merged to become the Canadian Institutes of Health Research (CIHR). With a mandate to excel, according to internationally accepted standards of scientific excellence, in the creation of new knowledge and its translation into improved health for Canadians, more effective health services and products and a strengthened Canadian health care system, CIHR was composed of 13 national institutes, one of them an Institute of Aging (IA). I had been serving on the IA’s inaugural Institute Advisory Board and was very engaged in that role, working to support the Institute’s Scientific Director in setting a research agenda in aging across biomedical, clinical, health services and policy, and population health research. When the Scientific Director (a geriatrician) resigned unexpectedly, I had the opportunity to apply for a job that, I immediately realized, I really wanted. This was as far away from sociology as I was ever going to get, and yet it afforded the opportunity to help set the national and international research agenda in my field of research, in aging – an extraordinary privilege and opportunity. I became the first (and, to date, only) “card carrying sociologist” to become a Scientific Director of a CIHR Institute – a position I held for two terms, from 2004-2011.

In my Scientific Director position, I was seconded from UBC on a .60 full-time equivalency basis (crazily unrealistic, in truth), but this “balance” enabled me to champion initiatives for the Institute, as well as maintain my own program of research. That research had assumed a particular focus when, in 1999, my mother was paralyzed by stroke, and, as I later wrote (in “Situating ‘home’ at the nexus of the public and private spheres: Aging, gender and home support work in Canada,” Current Sociology, 2007, 55 (2), 229-249), “home care entered my family biography.” For the eight years of my research stipend from CIHR while I was Scientific Director (and otherwise ineligible to apply for CIHR funding), I conducted research on the roles and perspectives of publicly-funded home care workers, older people as clients, and family members at the intersection of the public and private spheres of home-based health and social care services. 

At CIHR, I had inherited from my predecessor a commitment to explore the feasibility of a Canadian Longitudinal Study of Aging (CLSA); a very “big science” initiative; and I did. I am not a “visionary” and I would not ever have developed the idea for a CLSA – a 20-year study of 50,000 Canadians between the ages of 45 and 80 (at point of entry to the study), to examine the complex interplay between biological, social and behavioural aspects of aging. But I am a “process person,” and once convinced of the unique potential of the CLSA to advance understanding of aging, it became my driving mission to work with the research team to secure CIHR’s support for, and funding of, this ambitious initiative. The CLSA was launched in 2009, with one of its 10 Canadian research sites based in the Health Sciences Complex at Memorial University. 

There were other initiatives over those 8 years at CIHR, with an especially meaningful one for me being the launch in 2006 of what has become an annual week-long Summer Program in Aging, bringing graduate students from all fields of aging research together from across Canada. But the CLSA is the key legacy of those years.

I returned full-time back to UBC in 2011, to an appointment in the Department of Sociology! At last, my sociological career had come full circle. (The move into sociology had actually occurred in 2008, while I was still part-time with the CIHR Institute of Aging, fully 30 years after my first academic appointment at Guelph). Aging is a very marginal research focus in this department, and so all but one of my PhD students have come to me via the Interdisciplinary Studies Graduate Program. 

Nevertheless, I graduated my first PhD in sociology in 2017. I taught my first (and only) graduate course in Aging and Society in the Department of Sociology the same year (with 2/3 of the course participants coming from disciplines other than sociology). And in 2016, I published a paper, “The Interpretive Perspective on Aging,” in Vern Bengtson and Richard Settersten (Eds.), Handbook of Theories of Aging, 3rd ed., pp. 381-400. My name appeared between two bona fide sociologists, my doctoral supervisor Victor Marshall (then at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill) and Julie McMullin of Western University. By then I was beginning to think that, just maybe, I am sociological enough, after all.

Recently, in cleaning out my sociology office (I retain a .20 full-time equivalency appointment in sociology as I assume a new role of Associate Vice-President Health at UBC), I came across a paper that I cited in my 1978 job talk in the Department of Family Studies at the University of Guelph. I could not have imagined then how the words of Stella Jones, in a publication titled The Research Experience, would so aptly capture the essence of my own academic (and, indeed, coast to coast, geographical) journey: Jones described doing research as “analogous to a journey across the country. [It] can be an experience with many serendipitous turns.… The traveler and the researcher alike find that the best laid plans must frequently be altered in transit. Unexpected delays occur; last minute changes in routing are sometimes necessary.… Such unexpected factors may add to or detract from the total travel or research experience” (pp. 327-328).

Certainly, I swerved – and often – between sociology and social gerontology (and various academic footholds around and between), and between scholarship and administration. Best laid plans were, indeed, altered in transit. And, as Dr. Holly Pike so insightfully deduced, my research has indeed juxtaposed prospective and retrospective approaches in the effort to advance understanding. This has become particularly pronounced now that I have become what I have been researching and teaching all through my academic career: a senior citizen. This has occasioned some self-reflexivity in my approach to my research, as I bring the “perspective of time” back to topics that I have researched and written about previously. 

But there have also been two constants. While some other contributors to Sociology on the Rock have described themselves as an “accidental sociologist” (Porter, 2008) or a “reluctant sociologist” (Felt, 2012), my roots in sociology run deep. Memorial and McMaster gave me that. Victor Marshall, as my career-long academic mentor, and Ralph Matthews, as the sociologist who has been my life’s partner for 45 years, have kept me grounded in sociology even as more applied science, health research, and academic administration pulled me frequently away.

And then there is that other constant for me – The Rock itself. As I said at the end of my convocation address, “The Future is Aging,” to the graduating class at MUN’s Grenfell campus in October 2018: “For those of you who are from Newfoundland, or feel that you now belong to Newfoundland, I encourage you to honour these roots. This is a special place, and please don’t forget that. I recall how full my heart was at my graduation from Memorial 47 years ago, knowing that I was leaving soon to go to graduate school ‘on the mainland.’ I did not know then that I would not return to live here permanently – though I did marry a Newfoundlander, and have come back countless times almost every year since. I took it as a tremendous compliment when my mother said of me, shortly before she died, ‘Anne left Newfoundland, but Newfoundland never left her.’ Please do not ever lose the Newfoundland in you.” As for me, I’m inclined to think that I never have.

[momentumgo]

Andrea Schmitz

Motion Graphics Designer/Animator www.andreaschmitzzz.com New York City Age 27 She/Her

How did you get your start in motion design, animation, or whatever it is that you do?

I originally wanted to be a writer, and I faithfully wrote buckets of fanfiction and short stories up until the end of high school. I had actually planned on going to college for creative writing, but I was afraid of job prospects for fiction writing, and ended up going to Northwestern for film instead. Once I was there, it was clear to me that I hated film. For the first two years I felt like I was wasting time and money because I wasn’t learning anything that felt practical or interesting to me. It was also freezing in Chicago, and I quickly discovered that I hated filming on set (and I hated that most of the other film students only wanted to talk about film). Then, in 2012, I took the only animation class on campus, which taught puppeted character animation in AfterEffects. I was good at it, and it was fun, and so I decided to do that for the rest of my time there, along with sound design (because you could do both from a warm, snug bed).

I was one of three students interested in animation in my year, and one of three women killing it in sound design. I spent my time at school working project to project, designing opening credits for other film students’ web series, making a short animations for class, and sound designing other people’s short films. I tried to learn something new with each project, and eventually I worked with the animation teacher on an explainer series as an independent study in my third year. I also had two unpaid internships – one in Santa Monica making background screens for a 3D kids show, and one in my hometown of Little Rock where I did not do much actual work, but my supervisor gave me access to his Animation Mentor account so I could take some lessons. 

In my last year at Northwestern I was terrified that I was nowhere near ready for a job in motion graphics or animation, and I didn’t want to do another four years of school. Over my senior year winter break, I showed a former Disney/Nickelodeon animator who had recently moved to my hometown one of my old sketchbooks that I had on hand at the time, and he told me that I was four years behind everyone graduating from an art school that year. I went back to my car and cried. I had been trying so hard to make something from the limited resources for animation at my school, and I still had so far to go. I made a plan to do everything I could to make up that time as quickly as possible. 

This feedback triggered 3 years of panic-fueled creativity that I still have mixed feelings about because, although it kickstarted a creative growth spurt, it came from a place of fear, which affected the quality of the work. I took five classes that fall, blindly guessing pre-production for an animated short that I did not end up making in an independent study. Northwestern did not provide a 3D class, so I took the train once a week an hour south to take night classes in Maya at Columbia College on top of my regular workload (not for credit, because taking this six classes wouldn’t have been allowed by the school). Near the end of the year, I frantically applied to any and all jobs listed online, figuring that I would crash-course learn whatever I needed to and move wherever I had to to work. By the time school was ending, I had no job offers, but I had found a grad program that put equal emphasis on writing and art that felt just so me.

Two months before I graduated Northwestern, I applied and got into the MFA Visual Narrative program at the School of Visual Arts in NYC. I left NU three weeks later to start the program, and flew back every weekend to wrap up classes, graduate, and move out. The MFAVN program functions as an on-campus high-volume program for June and July every summer for 3 summers, but is an online course during the 2 years in between, so you can attend grad school and hold down a job in another state at the same time. 

After leaving the first summer, I moved to Austin, and shortly after got a job making graphics for standardized tests. I couldn’t keep any work from this job for my portfolio since all of it was confidential, so sometimes it felt like I was making art all day and throwing it into a hole, but I learned vector illustration from that job. The next year, I moved to NYC for thesis year in order to be closer to the school and its resources, and worked 9am-2am every day for 6 months on a 10-minute frame by frame animation. By the time I left the MFAVN program I had three 5-10 minute animated shorts under my belt ( x, y, z ), but remained anxious about their quality because I had rushed all of them. I would try to fit huge concept projects into a tiny timeframe and overextended myself to reach my own goals. It took me a long time to physically and mentally recover after thesis, and the scale of the production did not achieve equal scale success. I learned a lot, but it took me a year to want to draw anything again.

It took me four months to find a job after graduating. I applied constantly – hours and hours each day searching and applying to anything that remotely sounded like what I did. I made short motion experiments in the meantime, and took CE classes at SVA. I ended up getting my first job – a paid internship – through networking on the Motion Design Slack. It was an internship with a pharmaceutical marketing company. I worked there for 6 months until it became clear they would not hire me full-time and I was very overextended. I got my next job, again, by talking to other motion designers, at New York Magazine as a motion designer. I had the opposite problem there, where I was free to do what I wanted when it came to explainer design, but I rarely had fully animated projects to work on, and had a lot of downtime. I made a lot of side projects during that time. A few months ago, after a year and a half at NYM, I got my latest job at Insider, where I do more character work than at any previous job and have similarly free reign over my explainer designs.

It’s only in the past two years that I’ve felt safe and secure enough to let the panic-fueled mania subside and start to focus on what I really want out of my career. I’ve started writing again, and exploring ways to introduce story back into my work. Although the ‘advice’ that I was four years behind lit a fire under my ass to work as hard as I possibly could to become a professional in the shortest amount of time, my work definitely suffered for it, and I think a positive reinforcement would have left me with a better mindset. Maybe then it would not have taken me so long to start thinking about what I really want out of my career. 

State your privilege – What circumstances may have helped or hindered you along the way? I come from a privileged background. I am very lucky to have two extremely supportive parents, and they encouraged me to go to whatever school I wanted and pursue whatever career I wanted as long as I could make it work. They paid for both schools, and I had no loans. After I graduated, I lived off of leftover college savings money until I made my own income. Financial security and unwavering trust, love, and encouragement from my family gave me the time and safety to discover what I wanted to do and the means with which to learn it.

What are some best practices you use today?

I diversify the projects I invest my time in. If I animate all day at work, I’ll read or write or draw on the train, and bake or write at home. I’ll always have several projects going on at once, but I delegate them to specific times and places that work around my schedule. This way when I work on them it doesn’t necessarily feel like work, because rather than a constant slog, each task feels fresher and easier to jump into.

How do you define success? What would success look like for you? My primary goal in life is to write and publish a book, and then to sit on the floor of a Barnes and Noble and read the book without buying it. It would make 12-year-old me proud, and that’s the only standard I hold myself to. 

Success in motion graphics to me is making a living and having enough time to comfortably make my personal projects on the side. Creating and animating stories is fun for me, but motion design is the job. I really want get into developing more narrative fiction animated work, but that’s going to be a long journey to make that a job.

How do you balance your work with your personal life? How do the two influence each other?

My boyfriend used to work odd hours, and now he goes to school in the evenings, and that’s greatly influenced my schedule. I try to get work done while he’s out of the house, and that way I can try to put my work down whenever he gets home so we can spend some time together. 

How have you learned to practice self-care? What do you do to take care of yourself? I’ve been trying to go on more walks to break up the work day at my fulltime job. I try to stretch my neck, hips, back, and and knees as often as I can (IT’S NEVER TOO EARLY TO START STRETCHING). I got an ergonomic mouse that changed my life. I try to take long breaks between the freelance projects I take on on the side. When I have a project assignment, I often feel like I have to get it done IMMEDIATELY, and will push myself into working long hours at nights and weekends to achieve that. If this is the way I’m going to keep working, the compromise is that I’m teaching myself that it’s ok to say no, and to not respond to the person looking for animation help that I am perfect for if I am not 100% up to it. I didn’t draw for about a year after I made my thesis film – I know now I need time to recharge.

What advice do you have for those just starting out?

Talk to people! I’ve learned so much from the women of the Motion Design Slack and the people of Punanimation! Make friends, let them know when you’re looking for a job! (Don’t make friends TO let them know you’re looking for a job, just make friends and hang out.) 

Make your projects! Don’t wait for validation! I wanted to make a short film post-grad but had no reason to make a short film, so I made Things Took a Turn so I’d have a reason to make a short film, and it held me accountable because then other people also had to make short films and I was in charge. Don’t do that exactly because that was an insane idea, but just know that you have the power to create opportunities for yourself!

Don’t panic! Make side projects because you want to, not because you feel like you’re competing against the world. Scale and volume can help you grow, but time and thought can help you stand out.

Find where nobody is doing the work and do the work! Aim to be different! If you think your work does not look like the work of someone else’s whom you admire, that’s okay. Lean into your differences! 

Explore other fields, you never know how different media could work together!

Avoid hero worship! Just because people make good art does not mean they would make a good mentor. Find your own standards and hold yourself to them.

[readincolour]

New Books Coming Your Way, May 23, 2017

Rich People Problems by Kevin Kwan 416 p.; Fiction When Nicholas Young hears that his grandmother, Su Yi, is on her deathbed, he rushes to be by her bedside—but he’s not alone. The entire Shang-Young clan has convened from all corners of the globe to stake claim on their matriarch’s massive fortune. With each family member vying to inherit Tyersall Park—a trophy estate on 64 prime acres in the heart of Singapore—Nicholas’s childhood home turns into a hotbed of speculation and sabotage. As her relatives fight over heirlooms, Astrid Leong is at the center of her own storm, desperately in love with her old sweetheart Charlie Wu, but tormented by her ex-husband—a man hell bent on destroying Astrid’s reputation and relationship. Meanwhile Kitty Pong, married to China’s second richest man, billionaire Jack Bing, still feels second best next to her new step-daughter, famous fashionista Colette Bing. A sweeping novel that takes us from the elegantly appointed mansions of Manila to the secluded private islands in the Sulu Sea, from a kidnapping at Hong Kong’s most elite private school to a surprise marriage proposal at an Indian palace, caught on camera by the telephoto lenses of paparazzi, Kevin Kwan’s hilarious, gloriously wicked new novel reveals the long-buried secrets of Asia’s most privileged families and their rich people problems. A Good Country by Laleh Khadivi 256 p.; Fiction Laguna Beach, California, 2009. Alireza Courdee, a fourteen-year-old straight-A student and chemistry whiz, takes his first hit of pot. He inhales; exhales. In an instant he is transformed from the high-achieving son of high-achieving immigrants into a happy-go-lucky stoner. He loses his virginity, takes up surfing, and sneaks away to all-night raves in Palm Springs. Alireza becomes Rez, and starts high school as a popular kid who can still keep up his grades, lie to his father, and surf like a pro Ras Al Ayn, Syria, 2013. Rez, now Reza al Alawah, stands in a valley with two hundred ISIS fighters and prays. Reza has come a long way for this moment and now he cannot remember the words of the prayer. He has left behind his entire life—mother, father, sister—traveled across continents and oceans, and pledged himself to a god he cannot, at this instant, call down. A Good Country is a coming-of-age novel set in a world where this means choosing a side and devoting yourself. Rez transforms from the carefree American teen to a radicalized Muslim and ISIS fighter and finally, after capture by the Kurds, a defender of the land and cities his grandfather and great grandfathers sought to protect. What we are left with at the dramatic end is not an assessment of good or evil, east versus west, but a lingering question that applies to all souls: Does a person decide how to live in this world or is their life decided for them? Blackballed: The Black and White Politics of Race on America's Campuses by Lawrence Ross 288 p.; Education From Lawrence Ross, author of The Divine Nine and the leading expert on sororities and fraternities, Blackballed exposes the white fraternity and sorority system, with traditions of racist parties, songs, and assaults on black students, and the universities themselves, who name campus buildings after racist men and women. It also takes a deep dive into anti-affirmative action policies and how they effectively segregate predominately white universities, providing ample room for white privilege. A bold mix of history and the current climate, Blackballed is a call to action for universities to make radical changes to their policies and standards to foster a better legacy for all students. Chasing Space: An Astronaut's Story of Grit, Grace, and Second Chances by Leland Melvin 256 p.; Biography Leland Melvin is the only person in human history to catch a pass in the National Football League and in space. Though his path from the gridiron to the heavens was riddled with setbacks and injury, Leland persevered to reach the stars. While training with NASA, Melvin suffered a severe injury that left him deaf. Leland was relegated to earthbound assignments, but chose to remain and support his astronaut family. His loyalty paid off. Recovering partial hearing, he earned his eligibility for space travel. He served as mission specialist for two flights aboard the shuttle Atlantis, working on the International Space Station. In this inspirational memoir, the former NASA astronaut and professional athlete offers an examination of the intersecting role of community, perseverance, and grace that align to shape our opportunities and outcomes. Chasing Space is not the story of one man, but the story of many men, women, scientists, and mentors who helped him defy the odds and live out an uncommon destiny. Chemistry by Weike Wang 224 p.; Fiction Three years into her graduate studies at a demanding Boston university, the unnamed narrator of this nimbly wry, concise debut finds her one-time love for chemistry is more hypothesis than reality. She’s tormented by her failed research—and reminded of her delays by her peers, her advisor, and most of all by her Chinese parents, who have always expected nothing short of excellence from her throughout her life. But there’s another, nonscientific question looming: the marriage proposal from her devoted boyfriend, a fellow scientist, whose path through academia has been relatively free of obstacles, and with whom she can’t make a life before finding success on her own. Eventually, the pressure mounts so high that she must leave everything she thought she knew about her future, and herself, behind. And for the first time, she’s confronted with a question she won’t find the answer to in a textbook: What do I really want? Over the next two years, this winningly flawed, disarmingly insightful heroine learns the formulas and equations for a different kind of chemistry—one in which the reactions can’t be quantified, measured, and analyzed; one that can be studied only in the mysterious language of the heart. Taking us deep inside her scattered, searching mind, here is a brilliant new literary voice that astutely juxtaposes the elegance of science, the anxieties of finding a place in the world, and the sacrifices made for love and family. Augustown by Kei Miller 256 p.; Fiction 11 April 1982: a smell is coming down John Golding Road right alongside the boy-child, something attached to him, like a spirit but not quite. Ma Taffy is growing worried. She knows that something is going to happen. Something terrible is going to pour out into the world. But if she can hold it off for just a little bit longer, she will. So she asks a question that surprises herself even as she asks it, “Kaia, I ever tell you bout the flying preacherman?” Set in the backlands of Jamaica, Augustown is a magical and haunting novel of one woman’s struggle to rise above the brutal vicissitudes of history, race, class, collective memory, violence, and myth. May 19, 2017 at 11:00AM from ReadInColour.com http://ift.tt/2rAisBD

[germainetrittle86]

An Accidental Activist

I never planned on having any advocacies. At my eighteenth birthday party which was attended by a majority of the resident Upsilonian brods and Sigma Deltan sisses, my elder sister Annette, the original family activist and once-a-upon-a-time League of Filipino Students (LFS) Sec-Gen, kidded Bong Manlulu ‘85, UPLB campus activist and survivor of the Mendiola Massacre, that for all his persuasion skills, he was not able to recruit me to the “cause”. However, they agreed that my personality was not the “rah-rah” type anyway and left it at that.

When I applied to law school and was eventually accepted at the UP College of Law, friends and family both wondered and worried about me if I was really cut out for the job. I was in my sophomore year when a spate of horrific crimes began hogging the headlines. One of them was the murder of our own sorority sister, Eileen ’90 and brod Allan ’90. What seemed like abstract concepts and theories became painfully real to me as I reflected on the loss of their young lives. My once haphazard interest in the Family Code and Presidential Decree 603, otherwise known as the Child and Youth Welfare Code, was reawakened and lead me to write a paper on child abuse. I didn’t know then that I was already embarking on a journey of Child Rights and Women’s Welfare protection.

As luck would have it, I became a working student halfway thought my junior year and as a student assistant at the UP Law Center, I was tasked to help in some research regarding domestic violence laws. At this point, it was quite helpful to have that unique insight into gender issues having been a member of a close-knit community of women through my sorority. The draft document we produced eventually became the basis or predecessor of the Women in Intimate Relations bill and the Anti-Violence against Women and Children (VAWC) law. Around this time, I was also introduced to the network of women’s groups and began volunteering with some Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs). Years later, I would be on the other side of the fence, as part of my dayjob with DSWD, I would be involved in the crafting of official statements of support and controversial position papers for several landmark Women-Friendly Laws like the Reproductive Health law and the Magna Carta of Women.

Throughout law school, I kept my connections with these Civil Society Organizations (CSOs), various NGOs criss-crossing paths as we moved from child rights to women’s welfare to general human rights concerns. I knew that just like at university where Sigma Delta Phi never really existed in a vacuum, good relations and partnerships were vital to support worthwhile endeavors. When I joined DSWD, I handled sectoral issues of women, children, Senior Citizens and Persons with Disabilties (PWDs) as well as the occasional United Nations treaty or human rights convention, and these previous connections proved very useful.

As I reviewed numerous bills pertaining to women’s welfare, foremost in my mind were the images of my sorority sisters, how these measures could protect young women like them from sexual violence or exploitation, how these bills could ensure better social, political or economic participation, if not actual empowerment. In a way, I remembered that such was the purpose of sororities too. Much more than mere social support groups, sororities like Sigma Delta Phi was a venue for developing knowledge and skills in young women, providing them access to opportunities to showcase and further hone their talents to ultimately be of benefit to others. This objective can clearly be seen in the variety of projects and activities we were always encouraged to embark on even as mere teenagers in college.

Yet even with my legal education, I had to learn to develop a social welfare lens and with the help on social worker mentors, began to apply a critical balancing act of sectoral interests and technical legalese. This entailed the careful formulation of social policies which would serve the greater good of the public, and I was tasked to craft policy papers on sensitive topics such HIV testing for minors, revisiting the penal provisions on the age of sexual consent, corporal punishment and age-appropriate sex education for children and youth. To augment my knowledge, I touched based with youth groups and student organizations, agreeing to serve as Resource Person in many of their school-sanctioned learning activities outside of my regular office hours. One of my most memorable talks was when I returned to my Alma Mater UPLB upon the invitation of UPLB Babaylan, and was very happy to see an LGBT Youth support group now formally organized and officially recognized as a legitimate student organization.  I am proud to note that these combined efforts to address intersecting and cross-cutting issues pertaining to kids eventually resulted in the passage of the Anti-Bullying Act and the amendment of the DepEd Child Protection Policy to cover discrimination and bullying based on sexual orientation and gender identity which affected the Right to Education of many children.

* * *

When I first moved from the DSWD Legal Service to its Policy Development and Planning Bureau, I was unfortunately straddled with the burden of handling a very problematic sector - the senior citizens. No one wanted the assignment because seniors were known to file complaints and waste your whole day with continuous phone calls and endless letters. But as we have learned even from our neophyte days, no challenge is too big as not to at least give it a try. Borrowing from my agribusiness background lingo, even weeds can bloom where they grow, so I gave it a shot. Fortunately, I once again called upon the skills I developed as a junior sis in the sorority where even the most outrageous fund-raising ideas had to take shape and produce the results your Grand Archon requires of you.    

Like my involvement with the women’s sector, my sectoral work for the senior citizens did not stop at my regular dayjob with DSWD. Often times, I would utilize my weekends and vacation leaves to conduct trainings and seminars for elderly groups, LGUs, or even private sector establishments to ensure uniform and consistent application of the senior citizens law, especially on discount privileges. I also took advantage of the opportunity to engage other government agencies, educational institutions as well as professional associations, who can assist in furthering elderly welfare through the conduct of researches or the development of new, responsive programs. These efforts lead to the posting of standard notices on the application of the senior citizens’ discount privileges among businesses, established a definite monitoring and complaints system by identified government bodies, especially the LGU’s Office of Senior Citizens Affairs (OSCA), and the issuance of clearer rules and proper guidelines by respective national government agencies like the DOH, FDA, DTI and DA, the LTFRB and even water utility companies and electric service providers.

Wherever did I get such energy and passion? But such was our training in the Sigma Delta Phi;  after attending our classes, studying and taking exams, we were expected to participate fully in sorority activities after class hours. The older sisses always said that when you strongly believe in the relevance and importance in what you are doing, you will always have the energy and the time to accomplish what needs to be done.

My involvement in the women’s groups and their gender issues then introduced me to the LGBT Community whose growing visibility was becoming more evident. Before I knew it, I was at the forefront of a burgeoning LGBT Rights activism that was purposefully going beyond HIV/AIDS issues and no longer hiding behind “general” gender and sexuality issues of women.

I never wanted to be a ”leader” and all I wanted was to do my part, whatever of added-value I can share. My years in the Sigma Delta Phi instilled in me a sense of responsibility to the point of not being afraid to step up and exhibit the kind of leadership the situation requires when the occasion calls for it. So while initial LGBT activism merely took advantage of “alternative classroom learning experience sessions” and “media interviews”, I was one of those who suggested it was time we engage government institutions and use official mechanisms to put forth our concerns. This idea gave birth to the LGBT legislative advocacy and lobbying group, LAGABLAB, whose primary task was to draft a legislative agenda for the LGBT Community and lead in the lobbying for these bills in Congress. As a founding member, I also served as its Policy Advocacy and Research Committee Head for some time.

Sadly, LGBTs have also been typecast and boxed into certain occupations, and we agreed that we needed to have greater representation and visibility from other areas and professions. Ultimately, I decided to maximize my own legal background and modify our kind of advocacy by focusing on legal avenues. This resulted in my establishment of a new LGBT advocacy group, RAINBOW RIGHTS PROJECT (R-Rights), which was composed of lawyers and law students who aim to consolidate legal references and materials to push for LGBT rights protection, develop fellow LGBTs through a paralegal program to capacitate them about their basic human rights and what are the official and legal remedies available, and identify relevant topics pertaining to LGBTs in particular and look into the possibility of recommending appropriate policies and laws to address these issues. R-RIGHTS became recognized by the alternative lawyering network and human rights groups coalition as the first and only developmental law NGO catering to sexual minorities. During my stint as its Founding President, we were able to connect with and capacitate various LGBT groups around the Philippines like Baguio, Cebu, Davao, Cagayan de Oro, even Zamboanga and Sulu. These connections and alliances enabled us to have more visibility outside MM-NCR and consolidate our national presence as the Philippine LGBT Community as a whole. These efforts would also pave the way for Ang LADLAD when the Community decided to give the Partylist System a try for greater political participation and actual representation in Congress. And once again, I was thrust into the leadership role as one of the Trustees and Officers, eventually becoming a partylist nominee.

While our advocacy then was quite new, we were mindful of learning from the strategies and tactics which worked for the other sectors and human rights groups. My attitude then was similar to the coaching and mentoring techniques I observed during my years in the sorority – beginning from the indoctrinations of our “masters” to the senior sisses taking each of us under their wing. There was always much to learn and one must keep an open mind. It was then I realized that the concept of seniority had a special purpose to play – never meant to be abusive or oppressive, it was a matter of “succession” training and developing capable “second-liners.” The respect and deference we owe to those who went before us, blazing the path, so that the next generation can move forward and enjoy the benefits of such bravery is of great value.

But while we adopt the knowledge and practices as they are passed down to us, we also inject our own learnings as added-value and such is our indoctrinations to new neophytes. For me, I anchored my arguments strongly on women’s rights and welfare, where the concepts of gender and sexuality used to explain marginalization, subjugation, and oppression were the very same used against sexual minorities.

I believe that while it is good to be part of a homogenous community, there can also be Unity within Diversity. It was in the Sigma Delta Phi that I first learned to appreciate and value DIVERSITY, that the variety of personalities that comprise an organization can be a source of strength too. I was taught in the sorority, as early as the Tea Party and screening/Presentation, that each of us can bring something to the table because of our own uniqueness. We have different talents and skills, ideas and opinions even, but what is important is that we practice mutual respect, and as much as possible, extend that to the kind of acceptance the concept of Grand Sisterhood demands.

It is my LGBT rights advocacy which has unexpectedly taken me to the international stage as well. Filipino LGBT advocates have long lead the way in LGBT human rights promotion in Asia. I never expected my participation in regional human rights conferences to represent LGBTs activists as Human Rights Defenders would bring me to Geneva to speak at the United Nations Human Rights Council. After we successfully lobbied for an international human rights report on the status of LGBTs or “people of diverse sexualities” around the world, the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights called for the continued efforts of monitoring the status of LGBTs worldwide, legitimizing us as a legitimate sector worthy of attention. Our biggest accomplishment as a coalition of LGBT human rights advocates around the world was the recommendation of the establishment of an Independent Expert on Sexual Orientation, Gender Identity and Expression (SOGIE), which we put forth as a special procedure or human rights mechanism in the absence of a specific treaty or convention.

Recently, I have had the pleasure of seeing some of my hard work pay off. The earlier versions of the Senior Citizens Act has since been amended to give more benefits to our Filipino elderly, expanding discounts to free services, financial assistance and universal health coverage. The Centenarians Act was also passed to recognize our 100 year olds and award them with a special financial assistance. The original Magna Carta of PWDs was likewise amended to expand their benefits for clearer implementation. But most of all, our proposed national agency for the elderly sector has recently been passed in the form of the newly established “National Commission for Senior Citizens” and bills to address elderly abuse have been filed in Congress since we raised this as an emerging trend. While I am happy to have been instrumental in passage of the VAWC law, the Magna Carta of Women and the Repro Health law, I have yet to see the amendment of the Solo Parents Act which we have tried to revisit and the expansion of the women’s crisis centers protocols for various Gender-Based Violence.

So I am not done yet. As a Sigma Deltan, it is incumbent upon all of us to continue doing relevant, if not important work for society; to always be at our best as a reflection of the excellence of our beloved sorority and to be worthy of its great name. We were never taught to rest on our laurels and simply rely on the prestigious reputation of Sigma Delta Phi. Instead, we were expected to be the bright points of light in our respective communities, wherever we may be.

[en--dear]

Lauren Esposito has spent much of her career studying scorpions, so it might not sound too surprising that she sometimes feels isolated. Her field of arachnology — the science dedicated to typically eight-legged arachnids, such as scorpions, mites, and yes, spiders — remains quite small. In fact, the San Francisco Chronicle once awkwardly declared Esposito the “world’s only female scorpion expert.” But over the past decade, she’s found it’s not just the narrow focus of her research that’s to blame for the loneliness she has experienced in her professional life.

Esposito openly identifies as queer in the sciences, where gender, racial, and sexual minorities continue to struggle for equal representation. Implicit and explicit bias too often limits the full participation of LGBTQ+ people and women at nearly every level, from education and employment to speaking opportunities and research funding. And while the dilemma of diversity in STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) has risen to buzzword status, LGBTQ+ inclusion often seems left out of the conversation.

“Being queer in STEM is a constant process of coming out, and it can be exhausting,” says Esposito, who serves as the Assistant Curator and Schlinger Chair of Arachnology at the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco. “I actually don’t remember ever working with any other queer people in my broader field of biodiversity-based science. That’s created a really strict division in my life.”

It’s unfortunately a common experience among LGBTQ+ STEM professionals, many of whom refrain from coming out to their colleagues due to fears of prejudice and harassment. A 2013 survey found that more than 40 percent of LGBTQ+ professionals stayed in the closet on the job. And in another study, of out STEM faculty at universities, nearly 70 percent reported feeling uncomfortable and discriminated against in their departments.

These numbers suggest that, despite some progress, the traditionally heteronormative culture of STEM fields remains inhospitable to many LGBTQ+ scientists and engineers, especially transgender and non-binary researchers. Esposito seeks to challenge that dominant culture with 500 Queer Scientists, a visibility campaign she cofounded in June 2018 to give queer scientists a platform for sharing their personal STEM stories.

“I realized that my professional life was devoid of any LGBTQ+ community, and that led me to form 500 Queer Scientists,” says Esposito, who took direct inspiration from her informal involvement with 500 Women Scientists, a nonprofit that similarly advocates for women in STEM. She says that although she lives in queer-friendly San Francisco, she’s “the only faculty member” at her institution who is openly queer. “I was under the assumption that other people in less queer-friendly places were having the same experience that I was.”

She’s certainly not alone. In the past six months, 500 Queer Scientists has reverberated widely. Students and professionals from around the world have contributed hundreds of entries and sparked conversations about foot-dragging within STEM institutions on issues of LGBTQ+ inclusion. But what’s most encouraging to Esposito is the positive tone that many of the stories strike, celebrating the accomplishments of LGBTQ+ people in science and technology, and the wealth of knowledge their collective work represents.

Queer scientists have, of course, a decades-long history of organizing to fight for greater equity in their fields. This eventually culminated in the formation of the National Organization of Gay and Lesbian Scientists and Technical Professionals (NOGLSTP), in the early 1980s.

But in an era in which science is under attack and LGBTQ+ people face increasing violence, members of this young movement are renewing efforts to make their voices heard. It’s a rainbow wave that flows through the work of 500 Queer Scientists, stalwarts such as NOGLSTP, and volunteer groups of graduate students. Together they are working to ensure that the next generation of STEM professionals is queerer than ever.

To these advocates, representation in STEM matters for the same reason that it does in any other corner of society: because the lives of queer people matter, period. But discussion about diversity in the sciences invariably turns to the question of meritocracy, a rather simplistic notion that professionals should succeed solely on the merits of their work.

That’s a sleight of logic that arises from a misunderstanding of the issue at hand. While cults of personality frequently surround luminary scientists, the reality is less egocentric. Major breakthroughs generally result from the work of teams instead of from a lone wolf working late in the lab. And several recent studies suggest that diverse scientific teams, those that more fully represent the socioeconomic spectrum, may indeed be more productive and better at solving complex problems, and drive more innovation.

That makes queer inclusion fundamental to moving the work in these fields forward, Esposito says. And it underscores the significance of efforts to address issues of workplace conditions, career satisfaction, retention of faculty and researchers, and recruitment of young talent into educational programs.

“None of us had our own queer mentors in STEM. We had mentors that were either queer and outside academia or mentors who were just academics,” says Julie Johnston, a doctoral student at the University of Minnesota and the creator of Queer Science Day.

Twice a year, Johnston and her volunteer team of facilitators welcome queer and transgender high school students to the University of Minnesota’s campus for a full day of experiments and demonstrations in everything from microbiology and environmental chemistry to astrophysics and computer programming. Last month, STEM-curious students at the fifth Queer Science Day tried their hands at coding, building robots, blowing up dissolved metals in balloons, and more — modules all led by queer and transgender scientists.

And while Johnston operates the program on a small scale, she has seen notable growth over the past three years, with about two dozen students now participating at each event. That’s a considerable turnout given the localized geographic focus and narrow segment of the high school population that Queer Science targets. Johnston hopes to expand the variety of events offered to eventually include an annual field trip focused on the natural sciences and even a summer camp. Queer Science has the potential to grow nationally, she says.

The first program of its kind in the country, Queer Science Day aims to fill a gap in university efforts to reach LGBTQ+ youth, a student population that’s statistically more likely to leave STEM than their straight, cisgender counterparts are.

“No one has really ever done something like this in the queer way that we’re doing it,” Johnston tells me. “We’re bringing people together from across disciplines, departments, and educational backgrounds. It’s our queerness that unites us.”

The hope is that small steps like these — introducing high school students to LGBTQ+ mentors and cultivating a deeper sense of community among out STEM professionals — may inspire more queer people to see a future for themselves in the sciences.

“Science only benefits from greater diversity. The more diversity in the room, the better work we’re doing,” Esposito says. “This is how we’re going to move science forward.”