ntertext

2012 | 20TH ANNIVERSARY ISSUE

SYRACUSE UNIVERSITY WRITING PROGRAM
Openings
1
he editors o Intertext welcome you
tothe20theditiono thepublication.
Intertextisacherishedandprestigious
entityo the\ritingDepartmentatSyracuse
Uniersity dating back to 1993. 1his publi-
cation is committed to showcasing the best
undergraduate writing rom all leels o the
\riting Program. It continues to exempliy
the power o writing and collaboration to
inormandinspire.
In honor o the 20th year, we will extend
ourstudentsexcellentworkbeyondthepubli-
cationtoournewsite:
http:,,wrt-intertext.syr.edu,
Iere,wewilleaturespokenword,ideosub-
missions,andmore.
lrom lower- to upper-leel undergradu-
ate coursework, Intertext has an appreciation
or the crat o student writing produced by
Syracuses ery own. Our department is ull
o talented writers displaying and honing great
skills or their uture careers. \ithout their
passion or writing and breadth o interest-
ing work we would not be the publication we
hae come to pride ourseles on being today.
Promotinguniqueandinspiringintertextualityin
academia was not something the editors could
haeeenimaginedwithouttheoerwhelmingly
excitingundergraduatesubmissions.
1he process o producing Intertext is a
hands-on learning experience. Stemming
romthecourse,\R1340:AdancedLdit-
ingStudio,studentswereinteriewedandse-
lectedtoparticipateinallaspectso Intertexts
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Online Debut
http://wrt-intertext.syr.edu/


Short Films

Readings By
Authors

2012 Intertext
Edition
Intertext
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productionprocess.\ith dierent leels o

experience and expertise, we learned rom
our peers and rom proessionals in the eld
aboutaspectso publishing.1helessonswe
learnedandexperiencewegainedareinalu-
abletotheutureweeachlooktoaswriters,
editorsanddesigners.
1odaywethankourproessor,Patrick\.
Berry, or his expertise and patience in the
processo producingIntertext.\ethankthe
College o Arts and Sciences` iLLARN pro-
gramortheircontinuedsupport.\ethank
the \riting Program or their commitment
to excellent undergraduate writing and to
Intertext. \e thank the Louise \etherbee
Phelps Award Judges or 2012: Lois Agnew,
JustinLewis,laithPlan,andMollyVoorheis.
AndwethankyouallorgiingIntertext twen-
tyinspiringyears,andwehopeormanymore
intheuture.Inaddition,ahugethankstoall
writersortheirsubmissions
1hough Intertext selects a ew pieces or
the publication, eery word you write is im-
portant to the community and growth o
writingbothinandouto academia.\epro-
mote a sense o intertextuality and beliee
this relationship between texts is something
thatrequiresbothpassionanddedication.As
readers and writers eerywhere are brought
togetherbytexts,wecanonlyhopethisspe-
cial edition o Intertext nds you, inspires
you, and encourages you to write on and
keepreading.
Lnjoy!
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IN1LR1LX1 2012 |1
1he writing contained within this publication expresses the ideas and opinions o the indiidual authors and does not
necessarily renect the opinions o the Intertextsta,the\ritingProgram,orSyracuseUniersity.Intertextandthe\riting
Programarenotlegallyresponsibleorerrorsinstudentscontent.
Intertext
4
Openings
EDITORS
6
Contributors
8
SECTION INTRO
Acceptance and Identity
GENEVIEVE ANITA THOMAS &
GEORGE EDINGER
10
Stages of Visibility
ELLIOTT DELINE
WRITTEN FOR WRT 422
14
Societys Acceptance of Transgender Identity
ANRAI D. PEARSON
WRITTEN FOR WRT 105
18
Guarded Judgment
ANONYMOUS
WRITTEN FOR WRT 255
22
SECTION INTRO
Lifes Intangibles
AMY LI & ANNIE LICATA
24
Kelley
MACKENZIE C. SINGH
WRITTEN FOR WRT 422
EDITORS

George Edinger
Hayley Kang
Matt Kovac
Brooke Leone
Amy Li
Annie Licata
Amanda Rockwell
Margaret Spinosa
Flash Steinbeiser
Genevieve Anita Thomas
Olivia Tormenta
Victoria White

FACULTY ADVISOR
Patrick W. Berry
Intertext is a publication showcasing
the best undergraduate writing from the
Syracuse University Writing Program.
,WH[HPSOLHVWKHSRZHURIZULWLQJDQG
collaboration to inform
and inspire.
The Louise Wetherbee Phelps Award
recognizes excellence in writing in the
Writing Programs courses. Submissions
are evaluated on depth, complexity,
technical control, emotional and
intellectual appeal, and how well they
UHHFWWKHJRDOVRIWKH:ULWLQJ3URJUDP
The 2012 winners are Elliott DeLine
for Stages of Visibility and Leanna
*DUHOGIRU'UHDPLQJRI,QIUDVWUXFWXUH
Architecture as Control and Parkour
as Rebellion.
2
28
The Inevitability of Elsewhere
MEREDITH JEFFERS
WRITTEN FOR WRT 114
32
Risks and Freedom
ALLISON CLARK
WRITTEN FOR WRT 301
34
Family Portrait
ELIZABETH BENNETT
WRITTEN FOR WRT 422
38
SECTION INTRO
Reverberations of Connectedness
MARGARET SPINOSA &
FLASH STEINBEISER
40
Finding Shelter From the Storm
SUSAN HAMILTON
EXCERPT FROM HOME:
JOURNEY TO THE WESTSIDE
42
'UHDPLQJRI,QIUDVWUXFWXUH$UFKLWHFWXUH
as Control and Parkour as Rebellion
LEANNA GARFIELD
WRITTEN FOR WRT 105
47
Writing Back
MARGARET SPINOSA
50
0LQHHOG
PETER K. MCSHANE
SYRACUSE VETERANS WRITING GROUP
54
Therapy Dog
DEREK DAVEY
SYRACUSE VETERANS WRITING GROUP
56
Why Should I Cite Them?
Student Writers in the Academy
ELIZABETH VOGT
WRITTEN FOR WRT 424
60
Editorial Team
ONLINE@
KWWSZUWLQWHUWH[WV\UHGX
That Psalm in Your Palm
ELIZABETH BENNETT
The Chop Suey Generation
IAN CHIN
Exhaust
DEREK DAVEY
Impact
MATT MARINA
Why I Write
PETER K. MCSHANE
IN1LR1LX12012|3
Openings
1
he editors o Intertext welcome you
to the 20th edition o the publica-
tion. Intertext is a prestigious entity
o the \riting Program at Syracuse Unier-
sity that dates back to 1993. 1his publication
is committed to showcasing the best under-
graduate writing rom all leels o the \rit-
ing Program. It continues to exempliy
the power o writing and collaboration to
inormandinspire.
Inhonoro the20thyear,wewillurther
extend our students excellent work beyond
thepublicationtoournewsite:
http:,,wrt-intertext.syr.edu,
Iere,wewilleaturespokenword,ideosub-
missions,andmore.
lromlower-leeltoupper-leelundergradu-
ate coursework, Intertext has an appreciation
or the crat o student writing produced by
Syracuses ery own. Our program is ull o
talented writers displaying and honing great
skills or their uture careers. \ithout their
passion or writing and breadth o interest-
ing work, we would not be the publication we
hae come to pride ourseles on being today.
Promotinguniqueandinspiringintertextualityin
academia was not something the editors could
haeeenimaginedwithouttheoerwhelmingly
excitingundergraduatesubmissions.
1he process o producing Intertext is a
hands-on learning experience. Stemming
romthecourse,\R1340:AdancedLditing
Studio,studentswereinteriewedandselected
toparticipateinallaspectso Intertexts pro-
ductionprocess.\ithdierentleelso ex-
perienceandexpertise,welearnedromour
peers and rom proessionals in the eld about
dierentaspectso publishing.1helessons
4
e b l l i w d e n i a g e w e c n e i r e p x e d n a d e n r a e l e w
inaluable to the uture we each look to as
writers,editors,anddesigners.
1oday we thank our proessor, Patrick \.
Berry, or his expertise and patience in the
process o producing Intertext. \e thank the
College o Arts and Sciences iLLARN pro-
gram or their continued support. \e thank
the \riting Program or their commitment
to excellent undergraduate writing and to
Intertext, including Anne litzsimmons, Kristi
Johnson, Christine Palmer, LouAnn Payne,
GeorgeRhinehart,LileenSchell,Beth\agner,
andNancy\right.
\e thank the Louise \etherbee Phelps
Award judges or 2012: Lois Agnew, Justin
Lewis, laith Plan, and Molly Voorheis.
\e also thank those who contributed to
our class: Benay Bubar, Katie Czerwinski,
Connie Lisey, and Minnie Bruce Pratt. And
we thank you all or giing Intertext twenty
inspiring years, and we hope or many more
intheuture.Inaddition,ahugethankstoall
writersortheirsubmissions.
\ealsothankBeth\oodandPearsonor
theirongoingsupporto thispublication.
1houghIntertextselectsaewpiecesorthe
publication,eerywordyouwriteisimportant
tothecommunityandgrowtho writingboth
in and out o academia. \e promote a sense
o intertextuality and beliee this relationship
between texts is something that requires both
passionanddedication.Asreadersandwriters
eerywhere are brought together by texts, we
can only hope this special edition o Intertext
writeonandkeepreading.
Lnjoy!
IN1LR1LX12012|5
CONTRIBUTORS
LlliottDeLine,Major:Lnglishand1extualStudies,
Stageso Visibility,writtenor\R1422
1his is a creatie nonction piece renecting on my experiences
as a transgender man in college. It shows the dierent ways in
which I elt inisible, both beore and ater transitioning, and
how I naigated coming out to a classmate.`
\INNLR: BLS1 UPPLR-DIVISION \RI1ING 2012
Anrai D. Pearson,Major:Architecture,
Society`s Acceptance o 1ransgender Identity,` written or \R1 105

My paper attempts to discuss how gender identity is understood

by society in general.`
Mackenzie C. Singh, Major: International Relations,
Kelley,writtenor\R1422

1he piece is about a amily acation that was taken ater the
death o my sister, and the process o learning how to lie minus
one member.`
MeredithJeers,Majors:\ritingandRhetoric&Lnglishand
1extual Studies, 1he Ineitability o Llsewhere,` written or \R1 114
1his piece was written about the impact o my grandmother`s
Alzheimer`s.`
AllisonClark,Majors: Graphic Design & \riting and
Rhetoric. Minor: Art Iistory,
Risks and lreedom,` written or \R1 301
1his piece marks a genuine turning point in my lie, ushering in a
mind-set o sel-acceptance and condence.`
10
28
14
24
32
6
Llizabeth Bennett,Major: Acting. Minor: Creatie
\riting, lamily Portrait,` written or \R1 422
A girl bands up with her brother ater years o sibling rialry, and
together they yearn to be the antitheses o their parents.`
See Bennett perorm another piece, 1he Psalm in \our Palm,` at
http:,,wrt-intertext.syr.edu
Leanna Gareld,Major: Communication and Rhetorical
Studies, Dreaming o Inrastructure: Architecture as Control
and Parkour as Rebellion,` written or \R1 105
lor traceurs in 190s Lisses, lrance, le parkour sered as
liberation rom social injustice and struggles o eeryday lie.`
\INNLR: BLS1 LO\LR-DIVISION \RI1ING 2012
LlizabethVogt,Lnglish & 1extual Studies major
\hy Should I Cite 1hem`: Student \riters in the Academy,`
writtenor\R1424
1his essay seres not only to reeal the potential powerlessness
o student writers in an academic setting but also to adocate or
more strenuous protection o students` intellectual property and
to inspire integrity into instructors.`
See Ian Chin`s and
MattMarinas
ideos, produced
or \R1 400 at
http:,,wrt-intertext.
syr.edu,
Learnaboutthe
work o Peter K.
McShaneandDerekDaey,
members o the Syracuse Veterans`
\riters Group, beginning on p. 4.
MeetSusan
Iamilton, member
o the\estside
ResidentCoalition,
and the Giord
Street Community
Press, p. 40.
34
42
56

Acceptance
A
cceptance is an elusie topic that
otencomesupbetweenpeoplewho
eel placed on the outside. \hile
a paradox, we nd power in both exclusi-
ity and inclusiity. \e tend not to eel these
emotions directly. \e work towards them,
under the stipulation that the disconnected
eelingswillsubside.
Acceptance must come rom within. \ou
canaskito othersallyouwantanddowhat-
eer it takes to obtain it, but ultimately it is
a ruitless eort i you do not accept your-
sel rst. 1he pieces presented here capture
the struggles people endure while accept-
ing the truths o their lies. 1hese powerul
texts embrace the imperections we all carry
whilechampioningthepersonalstruggleswe
oercome. On some leel there is a sense o
camaraderiewiththeauthorsinternaleelings.
Beingontheoutsideisaparto lie,oercom-
ingitisliinglie.
-Geneiee Anita 1homas, Lditor
I
dentity: It is constructed, certainly, but by
whom exactly is a less denitie matter. lrom
the time we enter this world, our personas
begin to orm beyond our control. \here we
arerom,whatourparentsdooraliing,what
welooklike,themannerinwhichwespeakwe
arejudgedorallo these,regardlesso whowe
reallyareaspeople,regardlessoourtrueidentities.
So oten we get caught up dening ourseles
by comparison, seeing i we measure up to
societysyardstick.Andyet,itisinthisprocess
that so many indiiduals lose themseles. 1hey
only recognize who they hae become when
they are at the end o their ropes. I you nd
yoursel there, then you hae become strik-
inglyawarethatwhileajudgmentalculturehas
hijackedyouridentity,itisstilloryoutodecide
whoyouwillbecome.
8
SECTION INTRO
Itisinthosemomentso loss,desperation,
or acilitated renection that you become con-
scious o how your enironment has shaped
you,andhowyouhaeshapedyoureniron-
mentgood, bad, or otherwise. And yes, we
aredynamicbeings.Itisnotinournatureto
remain static. But it is also not inherent that
we change in a way which is sel-directed,
whichisinormedbyourexperienceandnot
simplyaninstinctualresponsetoit.
Areyouhappy with who you are Are you
contentwiththedecisionsthathaeinariably
resulted in the person you hae become It is
notbadi youranswerisno.Rather,itisthat
personalhonestythatallowsyoutoconsciously
progress into the person you want to be. As
much as society may condition us to seek ex-
ternal acceptance, the endeaor is useless i
you cannot accept yoursel. \hat good is the
acceptance o a sea o aces when you hae
troublelookingatyourownItisastruggleand
we all desire to nd our place, but seeking the
approalo arelentlesslydemandingsocietyis
ataskwhichultimatelyleaesyouhollow.
Choose to be the person you desire to be,
and you may nd yoursel rejected by some,
and judged by many. But or those who do
accept you, you will nd yoursel in the company
o people who make you proud o who you
are,peoplewhoshowyouthatyoudobelong.
1hese next pieces tackle dicult questions
o identityandsocialacceptance,eachintheir
own unique way. 1hey exempliy the tension
between meeting your own expectations or
yoursel andmeetingsocialnorms.Byexplor-
ing the diculty posed by sel-renection, they
discoer the good it may lead to. lundamentally,
eachpieceasksustobehonestwithourseles
inawaythatisbothrighteningandunsettling,
butstrangelycatharticatthesametime.
-George Ldinger, Lditor
Identity
IN1LR1LX1 2012 |9
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\
e were getti ng to know one
another. I dread these cl ass-
room actii ti es, but thi s one
seemed to be goi ng wel l . 1hi s round,
we weretotellastoryo ajourneywewent
on with someone we loed. I stalled and let
Gina, the girl I was partnered with, go rst.
\hen she nished, I hesitated or a while.
1hen I decided to tell an emotional jour-
ney, rather than a literal journey. I was
apprehensieGinasstoryledmetobe-
lieeshewasheterosexualandcisgender.
I told the story o my emotional roller-
coasterwithPeter.Itoldherhealreadyhad
a girlriend, but was secretly inoled with
me. Ie would say he was going to break
up with her, but it neer happened, and he
strungusbothalongormonths.
Ginathoughtthestorywasreallyinterest-
ing, and was enthusiastic to hear more. \as
Peterbisexual,then
I said, \eah, or gay in denial, and
laughed.
1he truth is, I just said that automatical-
ly. Really, Peter and I are both transgender
men, and Peter rmly identies as queer and
is open to all types o people. I just ound
it easier to play the part o a regular gay
man ,whateer that means, and lie. Im not
sure i I was araid she would judge me or
beingtrans,ori Ijustwasntinthemoodto
explain it. But why did I assume she would
need an explanation I guess, in my experi-
Stages of Visibility
Elliott DeLine
ence,mostpeopledontknowmuchabout
transgendermen.Ialsohaetroubletalking
about these things aloud, though I think I
maywanttoandeenneedto.Iwasraised
tobeaerypriatepersonandtonotmake
othersuncomortable.
I
nhighschool,IdidntlikeshoweringI
preerredjusttakingabathsoIcouldlie
down.Onmyback,itdidntlookoreel
sobad,andsubmergedinhotwaterwithmy
eyesclosed,Icouldalmostenjoymysel.But
onmorningslikethis,whenIwasinarush,
I had to shower. I sometimes skipped days,
but today I smelled weird so that wasnt an
option.
I barely took note o my naked bodyI
washeditandmyhairwithsoapthenrinsed
andwasdonewithit.Iscrubbedmysel dry
then wrapped the towel around my chest,
wearingitlikeadress.Inthemirror,Ilooked
atmyheadandshouldersandmake-belieed,
justoraewseconds.1henIwentbackto
mycoldbedroom.
I had stolen about hal o my brothers
underwearcollection.Iwasaraidtoaskor
my ownor worse, be seen shopping or
them.1hismademybrotherandmomangry
when they discoered me, but I kept doing
itanyway.Ipulledonapairo smallboxers,
stretchedandwornoertheyears,designed
withatwele-year-oldboyinmind.1henI
slippedintobaggyjeans,pullingthemdown
10
below my hipsId read online that this
would help me pass, as my ass would look
nat, and most young guys wore their jeans in
thismanner.Isearchedorcleansocks,then
gaeupandsearchedorthecleanestsocks,
pullingthemeachonasIstoodononeoot.
Mychestbinderlayonthemattresswhere
Idletit.Itwasoncewhite,butnowagray-
ishyellow,withsomegreenspotsIsuspected
were algae, let rom the ew times I swam
in the lake. It looked like ,and was, or all
practical purposes, a dingy tank top made
o lycra.1heonlytimeIdidntwearitwas
whenIshowered.Idtrieditthough.
It was a battle getting into the thing. I
took the neck hole and stretched it oermy
shoulders,usuallyburningthemslightlyinthe
process.Ithenwiggleditdowntomystom-
ach,and,puttingmyarmsthroughtheholes,
pulled it up oer my chest and back. I still
eel reulsion recalling how I then reached
insidemycleaageandspreadmymammary
IN1LR1LX12012|11
housesonthestreetandheadedtowardsthe
busstoponthecorner.
I was in homeroom, and, yet again, the
teacherwasdoingrollcall.LauraDeLine
It hurt to raise my hand. I was not this
person anymoreI was Llliott. But there
was nothing I could do. 1here would be a
sheetinronto me.Atestinlrenchclass.
Name___________.
I scribbled the rst part so it was barely
legible,thenwroteDeLine.Iteltlikeitwas
beingbeatintomeorthemillionthtime.lor
theassignment,Ihadtowriteaboutmysel.
-HVXLVXQHOOHItriedotherwiseonceandgot
anl.SoIplayedalong.
Square dancing in gym class-eeryone
split into boys and girls. Oh, how sorry I
elt or the guy I was paired with. I said
nothing. I bowed out early and skipped
the class. I would not curtsy. 1here was
only so much I could bear. Id rather ail
theclass.
And nearly three years later, I emailed
my college history proessor. I you dont
mind, can you please change my name on
therosterIgobyLlliott.
In class, I had my notebook open, in the
huge lecture hall. 1he proessor was young
but bald. Ie announced, Oh, by the way,
to anyone who emailed
me asking to go by a di-
erent nameits hard
enoughtolearnallthestu-
dents real names. I you
care so much, get it legally
changed.1henhedidroll
call. I blushed and didnt
sayanything.
More years passed. I
sat in another class\est
Arican Literature and
Politics.IwaslegallyLlliott
now.Rollcalldidnthurt,I
could write my preerred
glandsapart, creating the appearance o a nat,
malechest.
I tried on arious combinations o 1-
shirts and button-ups. I liked layers, to be
sae, and I had read online that a white
triangleo anundershirtbeneathyourcollargae
o amasculineimpression.
AterIsettledonmyusualarmy-greencol-
laredshirt,Ilookedinthemirror,partingmy
thick,still-wet,darkhair.1houghcutshort,it
wouldbehoursbeoreitwasdry.Imadesure
mybangswereswepto o myorehead
I had read, once again, online, that bangs
wereeminizing.Icheckedtomakesuremy
hair around my ears was cropped enough
though I longed or sideburns, I couldnt
growthem,andIwasparanoidthatallowing
my hair there to grow long would make me
looklikeLizaMinnelli.
Aterthat,therewasnothingelseIcould
reallydo.Iputondeodorant,unisex,asthat
was less scary to request rom my mom than
mens,.BeoreleaingIslippedonmyskater
sneakers ,a ew sizes too large, or eect,
and added a third layer o a baggy hooded
sweatshirt to my outt. I then pushed my way
outthedoorintothedarko theearlyApril
morning,backpackslungoeroneshoulder,
hidingundermyhoodasIpassedtheother
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12
\RI11LNlOR\R1422
nameonmypapers.
lor homework, we had to read a disturbing
story about emale circumcision that made me
wincewithsympathypains.Sowhatdowethink
Isitthe\estsplacetointerereandstopthisMy
handshotupimmediatelyIhadmeditatedon
it all week. Let`s hear rom the girls rst,` the
proessor said. I said nothing and lowered
myhand.Ispokeeentuallyromadistanced
point o iew with the other boys, neer
reealing that I cringed at the thought
o my own clitoris being amputated and
elt conused by the deep, empathetic
connectionIeltwiththesewomen,eeni
we identied dierently.
C
lassended.GinaandIlaggedbehind
aseeryoneelseexitedtheroom.
Itssounny,shesaidassheput
her papers away. I was the only one who
noticed Jordans the only straight guy in the
class!
Inoddedandsmiled,unsurewhattosay.
I mean, I couldn`t be sure at rst,` she
said, but then you and Ian both said you
weregay.
I think she said this so I wouldnt be
oended that she thought we were rom
the start. Im not gay, I said, surprising
mysel a little. I realized it was erycasual
sounding,andthatmostguyswouldprobably
saysomethinglike,Imnotgay!\outhoughtI
wasgaySuperdeensie,eeni theywere
open-minded.
Gina must hae noticed too, because
she said, Oh, or queer, or whateer.`
Actually, Ie had girlriends, I said.
And its kind o dierent or me, be-
cause Im transgender. lemale-to-male, I
quickly added.
\ed packed up our books and laptops
and headed into the hall. 1here were many
students surrounding us, and I wondered i
theycouldoerhearus.
Soyouusedtobeawoman
Ireallydontlikelookingatitthatway.I
wasbornemale.
Seriously She didnt sound as shocked
asIthoughtshewouldbe.Still,itsclearshe
hadntpeggedmethatway.Inodded,andwe
walkeddownthestairs.
Didyouhaethesurgery
Inasie question. But I`e learned you
haetoletthingsgosometimes.Iehad
surgery on my chest, I said. I hate the
moment ater I`e answered this question.
It seems like I can eel the other person
tryingtopicturemenaked.
Iwouldneerknow,Ginasaid.Seriously.
Neer!
\ep,Iknow.
Should I hae told her I dont need her
approal 1old her that I wish I had the
nere, when cisgender people reassure me
Imhandsome,tosayReallyIthinkyoure
hideous.Asi Ieeraskedtobereassured
Asi thesubjectweresomehowupordebate
As i they were expressing some contrary
opinion.
I guess thats what youd want though,
right Not to hae anyone know She
laughed,seemingalittlenerousagain.Ihate
whenpeoplearetoocomortable,butIhate
whentheyareuncomortableeenmore.So
Ismile.
\ell,honestly,itsadouble-edgedsword.
Ikindaeelinisibleeitherway,its---
\e were outside now. Gina aoided eye
contactanddidntseemtobelisteninganymore.
---Neer mind. I said. \ell, see you
later.
\ep,bye!
I lowered my eyes and didnt see which
direction she went. I walked across the quad,
squinting in the sun. I still elt the physical
maniestations o anxietya sped up heart-
beat,warmace,slightertigo.Butstrangely,I
alsoeltreallygood.
IN1LR1LX12012|13
A
nepisodeo This American Lifeentitled
Somewhere Out 1here eatures a
segment on two young girls who
are anatomically male but identiy as emales
,1om Girls`,. In modern scientic terms,
the two girls suer rom Gender Identity
Disorder,` a diagnosis used by psychologists
andphysiciansinordertodescribepeoplewho
experience signicant gender dysphoria. 1he
dialogue within this episode renects the com-
plicated issue concerning societys nonaccep-
tanceo transgenderedpeople.
In the episode, the two girls, 1homasina
and Lilly, share their experiences as indiiduals
whoaresometimesalienatedromtheirpeers
because they do not t into a male,emale
gender category. In the episode transcript, the
ather o one o the girls says,
A lot o our riends |say| so
your kid is gay, right` And that
would actually be a blessingat
least our society has a structure
in which you can understand
where gay people t. Once you say
OK, now I want this transgender
person to be part o your world,
someone says I`m not een sure
I een beliee that`s really true..
I youdstoplettingyourkiddress
like a girl, it wouldn`t act like a girl.
,1omGirls,
It should be noted how dicult it is to
obtain an accurate percentage o Americans
who are homosexual. \hile the 2000 U.S.
Census Bureau nds that homosexual couples
make up less than one percent o U.S. house-
holds, the lamily Research Report estimates a
Societys Acceptance
higher number, nding that two to three per-
cent o all men and two percent o all women
are homosexual or bisexual. In contrast, the
National Gay and Lesbian
1ask lorce estimates that
three to eight percent o
both sexes are homosexual
,Robison,. An een smaller
percentage o the popula-
tion can be identied as
transgender. 1homasinas
atherimpliesthatthosewho
grapplewithissueso trans-
gender identity are a small
minority o society. Due to
this, they are rarely part o
the larger discussions. 1he
general U.S. population is
onlyjustnowstartingtoac-
ceptpeoplewhoarehomo-
sexual. It is likely that soci-
ety will take een longer to
become more accepting o
transgenderpeople.
1he word transgen-
der did not appear until
the publication o Iarry
Benjamin`s seminal publication, The Transsexual
Phenomenon. In his 1966 work, Benjamin creates
threecategorieso transgenderedpeople:those
who merely want to dress,` go out dressed,`
and to be accepted as women,` those who
nd themseles in a more seere stage o an
emotional disturbance,` and those who are
ully transsexual ,13,. In describing trans-
sexuality, Benjamin notes the alienation rom
society that transgendered people experience.
14
\RI11LN lOR \R1 105
ply shut out by his two roommatesand by
theresto theschool,Quart,.
\hat Quart does not discuss at length is
theactthatcollegeisonlyoneo themany
places where Rey can expect to experience dis-
crimination. In act, according to the National
Transgender Discrimination Survey conducted by
the National Center or 1ransgender Lqual-
ity ,NC1L, and the National Gay and Lesbian
1ask lorce, in 2009, transgendered people are
regularly targeted. It was ound in the surey
thatpeoplewhoaretransgenderedexperience
double the rate o unemploymentnear
uniersal harassment on the job.signicant
losseso jobsandcareersandhighrateso
poerty` ,1,. Such challenges renect what
Quartcallsanaturalparto beingaminority
that is still ghting or acceptance.` 1he di-
culties which are substantiated by the surey
arise because transsexuality is a relatiely new
conceptormanypeople.
In 1om Girls,` Lilly`s mother says, Ioney,
you know, I don`t think God did this. I think
naturehaswayso messingup.1herearechil-
dren born with one arm. 1here are children
born with a larger nose. And eerybody has
something that they eel insecure about. By
saying that nature has ways o messing up,`
Lillys mother implies that transsexuality is a
deect or mistake o birth. 1his renects so-
cietys approach to conditions o gender and
sexualityorwhichthereexistslittleprecedent.
Up to the 190s, the scientic community
iewed homosexuality as a mental illness. It
wasntuntil194thattheAmericanPsychiat-
ric Association oted through a small majority
of Transgender Identity
Anrai D. Pearson
Benjamin nds that the third category, which
constitutes indiiduals with ully deeloped
transsexualism,` as haing a greater number o
clashes with arious aspects o society, including
withthelawandwiththemedicalproession,13,.
1hisphenomenono peoplewhoidentiyas
another gender is a relatiely new concept in the
scientic world and an een newer concept to
society.Asoneo theathersintheepisodede-
scribed, society`s resistance
in accepting the concept
o a transsexual identity is
arguably stronger than the
clash between society and
homosexuals.
1his connict is also de-
scribedbyAlissaQuartin
her article about a young
man named Rey who
preerstoidentiyasmale
in spite o the act that
he is anatomically emale.
In Quart`s essay, \hen
Girls \ill Be Boys,` she
notes how trans students
oteneelexcludedatcol-
legeandareoteninsulted
by their peers ,Quart,.
Quart describes Rey`s rst
weeko hisreshmanyear
at Barnard, a women`s col-
lege, when he learned that
his roommates had com-
plained to the housing director because they
didnotwanttosharearoomwithhim.Quart
goes on to say that as Rey saw it, he was sim-
IN1LR1LX1 2012 | 15
to remoe homosexuality rom the Diagnostic
and Statistical Manual o Mental Disorders
,Ierek,.Althoughsomeauthoritiessuchasthe
British National Iealth Serice do not classiy
gender dysphoria as a mental illness, currently,
peopleintheUnitedStateswhoidentiyasa
dierent gender are categorized as suering
rom a mental illness in the DSM. 1his rein-
orces the assumption that identiying as the
oppositegenderisabnormalandsuggeststhat
there is a cure` to this phenomenon. Recent-
ly, in 2010, the \orld Proessional Association
or1ransgenderIealth,\PA1I,prepareda
statement or the purpose o amending the
DSM. 1he \PA1I asserts that haing a
transgender identity should not be iewed as
an illness. In the eyes o \PA1I, changing
the DSM`s denition is the rst step towards
initiating a constructie dialogue concerning
this issue ,see Corneil, Liseld, and Botzer,.
In This American Life, the two girls,
1homasina and Lilly, describe a catharsis
that teleision gies them, allowing them to
orgetthattheyareconsideredabnormalby
others. 1homasina says, Sometimes, when
Imwatching1VIdontreallythinkabout
it, or I just eel like a normal kid.and I`m
not een a boy or a girl` ,1om Girls`,. Later
in the episode, 1homasina expresses her de-
sire to be normal.` She says, Now I actu-
ally hae this one riend who doesn`t know
a thing about ,my gender identity,, and I ac-
tually, kind o, like that. She doesn`t know a
thing about it, she just thinks I`m a normal
person,1omGirls,.
By saying this, 1homasina acknowledges
thepopularassumptionthatsheisnotnor-
mal.` Ioweer, it becomes eident through
such dialogue that 1homasina and Lilly do
not hae an inherent sense o abnormality,
rather, this sense o abnormality and alien-
ationissomethingthatistaughttothemby
the society into which they were born into.
1he act that Lilly and 1homasina describe
themseles as eeling gender neutral while
watching teleision proides an interesting
insight into the quality o gender identity.
Is gender identity an innate quality or
a learned social construct Quart argues
that the conentional way o thinking that
transgendered people are born into the
wrong body` needs to be reealuated. She
says that many students who identiy as
transareseekingnotsimplytochangetheir
sexbuttocreateanidentityoutsideorbe-
tween established genders ,Quart,. In a
way, these scholars seek to deconstruct the
ery concept o gender.
According to Paula S. Rothenberg, gender is
anabstractconceptthatissociallyconstruct-
ed. In her essay, Race Class and Gender in
the United States,` Rothenberg writes:
lor the indiidual, gender con-
struction starts with assignment
to a sex category on the basis
o what the genitalia look like at
birth.1henthebabiesaredressed
or adorned in a way that displays
the category because parents
dont want to be constantly asked
whether their baby is a girl or a
boy. A sex category becomes a
gender status through naming,
dress, and the use o other gender
markers. ,55,
Rothenberg introduces gender as an interest-
ing dilemma when she states that gender is
one o the major ways that human beings
organize their lies.` |O|ne way o choosing
people or the dierent tasks o society,` she
notes, is on the basis o their talents, motia-
tions, and competence-their demonstrated
achieements. 1he other way is on the basis o
gender, race, ethnicity-ascribed membership
in a category o people` ,55,. 1hus, gender
becomes a major tool or social categoriza-
tion within society. 1homasina and Lilly are
presented with a conusing and paradoxical
16
classication that is intrinsically woen into
theabrico oursociety.
\orksCited
American Psychiatric Association. Diagnostic
and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders ,3rd
ed., Reised,. \ashington, DC: 198. Print
Bender-Baird, Kyla. Transgender Employment
Experiences: Gendered Perceptions and the Law.
Albany, New \ork: SUN\ P, 2011. Print.
Benjamin, Iarry. The Transsexual Phenomenon.
Ann Arbor: Julian P, 1966. Print.
Corneil, 1reor A., Justus I. Liseld, and
MarshaBotzer.ProposedChangesto
Diagnoses Related to Gender Identity in
theDSM:A\orldProessionalAssocia-
tionor1ransgenderIealthConsensus.
International Journal of Transgenderism 12.2
,2010,:10-14. Taylor & Francis Online.
\eb. 5 April 2012.
Ierek, Gregory. lacts about Iomosexuality
and Mental Iealth.` \eb. http:,,psychol-
ogy.ucdais.edu,rainbow,html,acts_
mental_health.html.
National Center or 1ransgender Lquality and
the National Gay and Lesbian 1ask lorce.
National Transgender Discrimination Survey:
Preliminary Findings. \ashington, D.C.: No-
ember 2009.
Quart, Alissa. \hen Girls \ill Be Boys.`
New York Times 6 Mar. 2008. \eb. 29 Oct.
2011.
Robison, Jennier. \hat Percentage o the
Population is Gay Gallop. 8 October 2002.
http:,,www.gallup.com,poll,6961,what-
percentage-population-gay.aspx
Rothenberg, Paula S. Race, Class, and Gender i
n the United States: An Integrated Study. 6thed.
New \ork: \orth Publishers, 2004. Print.
1omGirls.ProducedbyMaryBethKirchner.
This American Life. Lpisode 34: Somewhere
Out 1here.` \BLZ, Chicago Public Media,
and Public Radio International. 13 lebruary
2009.\eb.
condition when it comes to the mixed mes-
sages that they are gien by society concerning
theirgender.
In 1om Girls,` Mary Beth Kirchner
describes Lilly and 1homasina as look-
ing distinctly emale based on their dress.
According to Kirchner, Lilly has pierced
ears and loes wearing her pink sneakers
withherall-pinksummerdresses.Kirchner
says that 1homasina has long, way brown
hair and delicate acial eatures. She wears
kick skirts, and headbands, and two-piece
bathingsuits,1omGirls,.Althoughthe
twochildrendesireandareallowedtodress
as girls, they are constantly reminded by
their peers and society in general that they
are males. 1homasinas ather describes his
daughter being bullied, saying,
|t|his child would take her on
recess and say, I know your se-
cret.Iknowyoursecret.Andi
you don`t do what I say, I`m telling
eerybody your secret.` And then
she went up into her ear and said,
And I`m telling eerybody your
secret, boy.. And now, you`re go-
ingtopushmeontheswingset.
,1omGirls,
A clear explanation or society`s negatie
reaction to the idea o transsexuality can be
understood through the rame o Rothen-
berg`s comment: In many cultures, gender is
the most essential and undamental category
o identity classication. Once the concept o
gender loses its tangibility and is questioned,
traditional social roles and customs also be-
come objects o discussion and criticism.
\hentheathero oneo thegirlsin1om
Girls states that society has |no| structure
in which you can understand |transsexuality|,`
he is standing at the tip o an iceberg. 1he
discussion o transsexuality is the doorway
to a much larger discussion about gender as
asocialconstructionandasatoolo human
IN1LR1LX1 2012 | 1
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b
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H
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K
a
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.

N
erous and unsure o what to
expect, my mother and I tra-
eled three and a hal hours to my
ather`s rst correctional acility. My mother, who
had lied a sheltered and priileged lie, was by ar
more anxious about this pending experience than I.
1he entire car ride up I did my best to ignore my
mother`s spiteul utterances, I was too young to
understand my amily`s situation. Len to this day,
I`m not sure I ully comprehend it. I did my best to
console my mother, who claimed she didn`t need
consoling, but whose isage constantly suggested
otherwise. Looking down with a urrowed brow, she
would stutter out repetitie reassuring words, look
up, breathe, and orce a smile to stop her eyes rom
welling up, the smile was meant to appease me. It
looked more like a rown. Because I was ourteen,
I could only isit a maximum-security prison with a
legal guardian. Unortunately, the acility`s website,
obscure and poorly documented, did not mention
that I would need two orms o ID, rather than
just one.
I had neer been to a prison. I was beyond
scared, I was terried. And honestly, in hind-
sight, I`m a little embarrassed that I was. lrom
whatIhadheardromoneo my\estchester
riends who had isited a prison on a school
trip, I imagined a dirty, sad, ill-kempt place.
Not exactly a bucket-list` location.
\e walked through a thick white passage-
way, entering a room o rusted tin lockers. 1o
our let was a small wobbly table with baskets
o papers. Straight ahead stood a metal detec-
tor,emptymetalcarts,usedtoplaceoodand
packages, and a large main desk, which was
signicantly raised rom that o the noor plat-
orm. In the middle o the room, there was
a cluster o metal and plastic chairs, the kind
you might nd in a public high school class-
room. My mother looked around, conused.
She noticed a large group o people approach-
ing the building and didn`t want to hae to get
stuck behind them in line.
\eapproachedasmallwomanattheront
desk. She had short, dingy blonde hair, beady
eyes and lips that seemed to purse naturally.
My mother, nearly trembling, squeaked out
that it was our rst time isiting, and she was
looking or some instruction. \ithout look-
ing up, the woman answered On the table.
lill `em out.`
My mother, a little taken back, lled out the
paperwork. She seemed to be holding back
tears when she approached the guard the sec-
ond time. Bitch-ace-as we would jokingly
call her-looked up, made eye contact with
my mother, shook her head, and looked down,
staring at the blank desk.
\ou`e got to be kidding me,` she mut-
tered.
\ou lled out the wrong paperwork. All
o it`s wrong. \our daughter doesn`t een
hae a second orm o ID. Look, maybe you
should go home, and come on back another
time. Iopeully when I`m not here,` bitch-
ace rudely retorted.
My mother, perplexed and oended,
demanded that we had the right to see my
ather and, een i we couldn`t, we had ood
and money to bring him.
Not today, you don`t,` the guard said
smugly. Please, get out o my line.`
Biting my tongue, I ollowed my mother, and
we wandered back to the end o the line where
Guarded
Judgment
Anonymous
18 \RI11LN lOR \R1 255
we could gather our thoughts, which at the time
were mainly just ramblings o proanities.
\itnessing all o this, the women at the back
o line shared with my mother that the guard
was always this sour, and that we did nothing
wrong. But, whateer we do, they cautioned, do
NO1 report her. Do not report her, that is, i
we eer plan on coming to isit on a weekend
or the duration o my ather`s stay again.
Supposedly, the report would take months
to process, be without consequence or her,
and encourage her to preent us rom mak-
ing it through that dingy, white corridor to the
isiting room.
More importantly, the woman warned,
She`ll gie your husband a hard time.` She
continued, \ou hae to learn to kiss ass.``
Maybe the guard was so rude because she did
not like her job. It`s obiously not the most cheer-
ul place in the world to work. Dozens o people
are on suicide watch, and people are literally con-
ned to their rooms or the bulk o their days.
Many prisoners don`t een receie isitors.
A year later, my ather was moed. \e were
all pleased about this transer, hoping that our
dealings with guards would be less tense, per-
haps een riendly.
\e had heard rom my ather that his inter-
actions would be less uncomortable there. Ie
neer went into detail about his interactions
with the guards and, knowing the dramatic
person he is ,as I take ater him,, I doubt I
would hae belieed much anyway. Ie simply
told us that we couldnt athom some o the
things that happened and stressed the impor-
tance o haing a backbone in lie.
My ather, unlike my mother, grew up in
a small house in a bad neighborhood outside
o Philadelphia. Ie was not sheltered and
aced adersity all his lie. Ie was proud
o what he had accomplished ,his present
whereabouts excluded,. But when I saw him
with the guards, beore he entered the room
and as he was leaing, it was clear that the chip
on his shoulder was gone. I gured it wasn`t
anything. I made the common assumption
most people who aidly watch Law & Order
make: Prison changes a person.
Ater not isiting my ather or three
months-the trip was ar, and I could only
attend proided it worked with my mother`s
schedule-we were oerjoyed to see him.
1he process was much dierent this time: \e
walked into the room, similar dingy setting,
but there was music playing-Kelly Clarkson
to be exact-but we weren`t complaining. 1he
guards smiled at us, greeted us and oered us
a quarter or the locker when we realized we
IN1LR1LX1 2012 | 19
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were missing one. \hat a change.
1he new acility proided an outdoor isiting
section, weather permitting. 1he cement tables
were much closer together and molded into the
ground with plastic and metal chairs that were
similar to what we used last time. \e had no
choice but to take notice o those around us as
they were simply too close to ignore.
One inmate picked up a huge stack
o photos, looking through them slowly,
laughing and aw-ing` at almost eery one.
Simultaneously, a guard stubbed his toe on
the back o the inmate`s chair. 1he inmate
excused himsel numerous times, scooted in
more, and continued to apologize prousely,
making sure to address the guard as Sir.`
1he guard, ater about a minute o silence,
put his oot up on the empty chair next to the
inmate, smiled and asked him i he was haing
a nice isit. 1he guard was smiling, but it was
painully obious that he was not happy.
\es, sir, ery nice, thank you,` the inmate
said playing along.
At this point, my ather might as well hae
been talking to a wall as I watched this episode
take place. Could it be that this attitude among
guards was widespread Not isolated to what
my mother and I jokingly reerred to as 1he
Prison o Gloom`
Ater patronizing the inmate, the guard said
that he would need to conscate the photos,
as he belieed they hadn`t been approed.
Mind you, unless this sixty-e-year-old wie
was a secret spy or undercoer lBI agent, her
chances o sneaking that paperwork in were
slim to none. 1he inmate protested at rst,
claiming that his wie was returning shortly. Ie
was silenced with a look.
\hen the wie returned, she was urious, and
she was not willing to hide her eelings. It was
incredibly uncomortable to watch, yet I was
mesmerized by the scene. It was like watching an
embarrassing scene on teleision, without being
able to hit mute or change the channel.
It was unortunate that the wie argued
in the way that she did. 1he guard returned,
tossed the photos on the table and walked past
the table toward another guard without saying
a word. I wonder i he eer went to check or
their approal, or i he was just trying to exert
his power oer the inmate. 1here`s really no
way o knowing.
1he wie, whose husband begged her to
be silent, yelled at the guard, demanding to
know why he conscated the photos. Clearly
not intimidated by the guard`s behaior, she
continued yelling, claiming that he can`t just
do that.`
1he wie, now doing her best to contain
hersel asked or the ocers name and badge
number, planning on reporting him to a
superior ocer. 1he guard laughed a strong,
hardy laugh while writing down his inormation.
\ou know what, you go right ahead.` Ie
moed in closer, leaning oer the table until
he was only about a oot away rom her ace
and in a terriyingly stern oice said, Ie`s
my uncle.` And walked out without anyone
speaking another word.
I remember watching this scene play out and
being in complete shock. A ew people were.
But more strikingly, there were many more
people not in shock. 1his was the norm. My dad
was laughing at me, asking me, repeatedly, to
stop staring in between his chuckles. Surprised
by my ather`s reaction, I asked him i he had
seenwhatjusthappened,andhetoldmethat
things like that happen all the time.
All the time. But ater he explained it to
me, I understood. \ho`s going to report
something like that An inmate, whose opinion
is neer considered, who can`t een ote, and
who is regularly searched 1he system makes
them out to be an unreliable bunch. Iow
would they be able to eer seriously aect the
courageous, public sering police ocers 1o
the general population, police ocers are men
o honor and inmates are their counterparts.
20
1his past summer I had the opportunity to
isit my ather at another acility alone. I had
the opportunity but truthully, I wasn`t exactly
looking orward to it. lrazzled and nerous,
like my mother was on our rst isit, I let
hal the groceries my ather was expecting in
the back seat. It elt like I was reliing my rst
experience all oer again.
I was ollowing the dress code. I wore a
summer skirt that went to my knee, a top that
coeredmychestandshoulderscompletelyand
a cardigan that coered the remainder o my
arms. 1hese isiting rooms hae no windows
and no air-conditioning. In the dead o August,
it was about ninety degrees in there.
It was one o my nicer outts, and not
inappropriate by any means. 1o my complete
and utter shock, the guards claimed that my
outt was ar too proocatie and told me
that i it would be greatly appreciated I
had anything in my car that I could change
into. Ater about ten minutes o cordially
arguing` with them, they let me in under
the condition that I keep my cardigan on or
the entire stay. It was ridiculous, but I agreed.
Ater an hour or two with my ather, the
guards called him oer. Ie jumped up and
sped oer mid-conersation. Ie returned
and sat down, telling me that I can take my
cardigan o i I wanted to, and that they
didn`t realize I was isiting my ather. As i
that really made a dierence I kept it on.
\hat i I had been a mother Or a
girlriend Or a wie I was uncomortable.
\hat was the point o ensuring that my
orearmswerecoeredandthatIhadasecond
layer oer my back and shoulders My ather
told me I was acting stubbornly, and that I
need to learn to accept that that`s how things
are around here, and that they weren`t going to
change any time soon.
I eel more comortable isiting now, knowing
exactly what to expect. More importantly, my
ather is more comortable where he is. Ie tells
me that at least. Ie has been in the same acility
or about two and a hal years, and the guards
recognize me when I isit.
O
er the past our years, I`e hid
my situation with my ather rom
the majority o my peers. It`s
uncomortable. And it shouldn`t be. I`e done
nothing wrong, but people make postulations
about what kind o person I am because o
my ather`s situation. 1hankully, I hae the
opportunity each day to make rst impressions
based o o only me. Neertheless, when
people nd out, it`s awkward because you can
tell that it`s something they would hae neer
expected.` 1hey nd me an anomaly, when
really, there are plenty o people who hae
connections to the prison. It`s hard or people
who nd out about my situation to look at
me and not think, \ait, but you`re not like,
a trashy person` In act, you`d be surprised
how many times I`e heard that comment.
It bothers me, sure, but I can`t help
people rom orming their own ideologies. I
understand that. 1hese people hae no power
oer me and according to the law and society,
we are equal. \hen I isit my ather-that
disappears.
\e`re not equal`-there. 1hey hae the
power, and otentimes use it, to degrade my amily
and me because o judgments they make. Our
criminal justice system proides opportunities or
its members to use their discretion, but the only
reason that discretion is een allowed` is because
there`s an unspoken understanding that those
capable o using it will do so sparingly and with
honor and justice in mind. I want to keep isiting
my ather, and i I want him to be as happy as he
is capable o being there, I really can`t stir the pot.
I can`t point out their indecencies, I can`t deend
my amily and me, and I can`t change anything,
alone. I hae too much to lose. Leryone in my
situation does. So or now I suppose we`ll just
keep biting our tongues.
IN1LR1LX1 2012 | 21
Lifes Intangibles
B
e prepared to attend a lot o
unerals. 1hose were the only
words my brother uttered to me
aswesatinthebackseato myamilys1oyota
Camry. \e were driing to the mall to pur-
chase suits that my ather and brother could
weartotheuneralo mygreatauntwhojust
passedaway.Istaredathim,shockedhecould
say something so insensitie. It was as i he
werejinxingouramily,condemningeeryone
todeath.Buthewasright.Ourrelatieswere
approachingthatage.
1hatyeardeathknockedonmyamilysdoor
and took us or a ride. But my grandmothers
brie encounter with him was most dicult.
IwasstudyingabroadinStrasbourg,lrance
and wanted a small aor rom my mother.
But when I Skyped her, she responded that
she had no time in the midst o preparing
or her trip to China. My mother neer took
acations.1hereasonshewasabruptlydoing
so:Mygrandmotherwasincriticalcondition.
Likemygreataunt,shehadcaughtpneumo-
nia.1hiswasherseconddiagnosiswithit,and
thecombinationo herpreiousandcurrent
prescriptionsdidntallowhertobegienany-
thingnew.Doctorssaidshewouldntmakeit
pasttheendo theweek.
A part o me had always belieed that my
grandmother was immortal. She raised me. I
hadneerspentadayawayromherbeoreI
letorcollege.I sheweregone,Idontknow
whatIddo.Mybrothersprophecysuddenly
hitme.Deathanddiseaseareineitable.
One day, death will strike. Sometimes he
wins, sometimes we do, gaining only a ew
more days, weeks, months, or years. I lit a
candle or my grandma at the Notre Dame
Cathedralthatnight.Andbysomemiracleshe
pulled through. She suried but her body is
weak. Any moment could be her last. Death
and disease are ineitable. \e will all experi-
enceorwitnessit.1hepainmayseemunbear-
able. But when we learn to accept and learn
tocopewithit,wegrowstronger,webecome
suriorsinourownlight.
1hisnextsectiondealswiththeseintan-
gibilities, oercoming them and nding sel-
liberationinthemidsto them.
AmyLi,Lditor
22
SECTION INTRO
I
wonder what Ralph \aldo Lmerson or
Ienry Daid 1horeau would say about
us now. Society in 2012. People always
talkingontheircellphones,playinggameson
their hand-held deices, watching moies on
laptops.Iwonderi theywouldappreciateour
willingnesstobealoneanddisconnectedrom
society, or rown upon our dependence on
materialthings.
In this section, writers wrestle with their
own existential ideas. By getting a glimpse
into the lies o these young authors, you as
readers can eel and experience the struggles
andembraceso LiesIntangibles.
Deepthings.Deeperthanlacebookstatuses
and1wittermentions,cellphonesandMacBooks.
1hese pieces are about the things in lie that
make or break the people we are, the people
wewere,andthepeoplewewillbecome.Its
what shapes our alues to contribute to the
legacyweonedayhopetoleae.
\e as humans share many emotions:
happiness and rage, jealousy and embarrass-
ment, to be is to eel. \riters harness those
emotionsandturnthemintowordsandworks
o art.1heauthorsinthissectionhaemas-
teredthatideamiraculously.
\e,thewriters,arethenextLmersonsand
1horeaus. 1his section may not hae all the
answers youre looking or, o course. 1hey
may not dry your tears or induce tears at
all. But i they make you question, i they
make you think, een or a moment, theyre
allworthit.AnnieLicata
Lditor

IN1LR1LX12012|23
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Kelley
24
Mackenzie C. Singh
I
haent written in a long time. Maybe
its because my thoughts hae been
jumbled, or because my memories hae
elt disorganized. Maybe I haent written
because writing is a coert way o rehashing
old bones hidden deeply in the trenches o
my memorymemories that may be better
letaloneor,i Imlucky,orgottenaltogether
inthegraeyardo pasttimes.
Graeyard.
1hiswordisstrangesimplybecauseittakestwo
words that exude two dierent eelings when
saidseparately.\henIsaygraeinmyhead,
it sounds black and cold, and theres an image
o a man with an awully thin ace wearing a
scowl that seems to be swallowing him. \hen
Isayyard,Ithinko greenandwarmthand
the budding o new sprouts. It seems to me
the word graeyard is an eort to hae the
second word o a compound gulp the rst in an
unsuccessulattempttoequaloutthesullenness
o whichtheormerwordimplies.
1his is why I chose to hae my sister
cremated. Among other things o course, I
liketheideao ashesbecomingparto nature,
molecules o a loed one noating around in
thebreezeo theseasons.Itsthesamereason
whyIlikerain.Arainshowerholdsontoan
eternity o existence as it alls rom the sky
only to get eaporated by the clouds and all
again.Iwishpeoplecouldlieinacozycycle
likethat,andIwishwehadtheopportunityto
allmorethanonce.
1hedayaterNew\ears,myparentsand
I boarded a night to scatter some o Kelley in
one o her aorite places. Aruba beckoned
us with its crystal waters and leaning dii-
dii trees, it was a acation with a mission.
Preiously, Aruba had always been the spot
or many amily memories. \e hae always
calledourselesabeachamilyand,oerthe
years,thesun,sand,andoceanhaebecome
IN1LR1LX12012|25
lie. 1he groom was also handsome, though
when I looked at him I elt uncomortable,
almost claustrophobic. Ie was sweating in
his tux, and I thought
thati Iweretotouch
his back, I would be
abletoeelthesquishy
heat seeping through
thejacketandwarming
upmyhand.\henthe
ceremonywasoer,the
man and woman were
called to the corner
and asked to sign the
wedding certicate.
1heirsignatureslooped
in between and aboe
each other on the
parallel lines on which
they were to signan
intermingled mess o
cursie that not only
pledged their deotion on paper, but made
it thereby illegal to separate. Iad my sister
missed a milestone or a constricting societal
norm \hen I think about it, Kelley`s lie was
so complete and good that maybe we could
gosoarastorejoiceintheactthatshehad
goneinaperectstate.Shehadntdieddueto
a debilitating illness, and she wasnt nostalgic
ordayspassed.Shehadliedinthemoment
and died in the momentand maybe, that
wasbetterthananything.
Deathisalwaystragicbutthereissomething
undeniablywoeulaboutthelosso someone
with the ace o sot nower petals-perhaps
because they haent reached the expected
milestonesthatwethinkmakeoracomplete
lie. Maybe the reason my amily liked the
idea o cremation was because it seemed to
presere Kelley in the lie she had been liing,
anddespitetheatethathadbeallenher,we
couldliterallytakeherintoourhandsandlet
herliehowshehadbeen.
aparto us.Ourearsperkwhenwehearthe
soundo asteeldrum,ourskintingleswhen
thesunkissesourbarearms,andthecorners
o our mouths turn
upward in satisaction
when we lick the sea
salt rom our lips. \e
knew that Kelley would
wanttobethere.
As the youngest
in the amily, I was
always either the topic
o conersation or
orgotten. 1he youngest
always has a spotlight
whether it is ront and
center, or in the corner
alone somewhereat
leastthatiswhatIthink.
Sometimes, I will listen
quietly, but intently, to a
conersationgoingonat
the dinner table, mulling oer the content o
thespeakersandchewingmyoodorsolong
thatitturnsintomushinmymouth.1hen,i
IeelIhaegoodmaterialundermybelt,Iwill
pipe up and say my bit. 1he thrill o what I
haetosaymakesmestrangelyproud.Leni
myopinionisthoughttobeoddorbizarre,at
leastithascaptiatedpeoplebybeingatypical.
\henItoldmymotherwithouthesitation
that Kelley would want to be cremated, she
didntthinkitwasbizarre.Imnotsurewhere
thesurenessinmyoicecamerom,butitwas
thereandseemedtoproideherwithtangible
security she could hold close in a time o
obliion.Istoppedbeingtheyoungestatthat
moment, and Ie been hoering somewhere
inbetweensince.
On the 1hursday o that week, there was
a wedding on the beach. 1he bride glowed
withbareootbeauty,andherhairwascurled
indelicatetendrils.Shewasreallyerypretty,
andIimaginedthismustbeamilestoneinher
\ecould
literallytakeher
intoourhands
andlet
herliehow
shehadbeen.
26 \RI11LNlOR\R1422
\hen I went o to college, Kelley and I
talkedeenmorethanwehadwhenwewere
in the same place. She was always narrating
a crazy story that would hae my sides in
stitches and cheek muscles sore. She was the
outgoing,wittyone,andI,theshy,quietone.I
wouldrelishinthemomentssheaskedormy
adice, careully articulating my answer, and
ollowingupthenextdayIwouldaskIow
did it go` or So what did you say` Kelley
andIwereyinandyangcompletelydierent
but tting together perectly.
lriday,oursecondtolastday,wascloudless
andperect.1hedaywasbeautiulandIlaid
on my back with my palms turned up like I
was oering mysel to the ast blue that
hoered aboe me. As dusk approached,
people gathered to watch the bold orange
drop rom its suspension in the sky, and I
took my spot right where the water lapped
the shore. And it was really nice. Because at
thatmoment,thoughwewereallstrangers,we
werelinkedtogetherbythepleasureweshared
or a sunset. A crowd o people who all elt
like they were in the right place at the right
time and a joined exhalation o breath that
was both content and satised in its humbled
trajectory.Asthesunmeltedintothewater,I
realized the sun and ocean were also like yin
andyang.
Saturday,weletsomeo mysistergo.My
momcried,mydadsaidsomethingpositie,
and I, true to orm, put on an emotionless
acade.Butthroughourexteriorsthewords,
I loe you Kelley` came out as the breeze
lited the ashes, and danced with them
oer the water. 1hat night, sitting in my
bed, I realized lie isnt about longeity, or
milestones,oreenaccomplishments.Itsthe
quality in which you lie, and the happiness
you eel. Its the out loud acquiescence you
uttertothedarkeachnight,\es,lieisquite
good. 1his, I thought, was the epitome
o Kelley-a girl who lied a magnicently
ulllie.
Perhaps some things shouldnt be buried
away in the hope that they may one day be
orgotten. Rather, i plucked rom memory
and analyzed just enough, one can nd there
isahinto beautyinjustabouteerything.
IN1LR1LX12012|2
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D
ying is ineitable. \e are all going
to die. Someday well be alie, and
thenext,wewont.\ellhaedying
words. A nal breath. One last supper.
In that moment, when we innate our lungs
beyond capacity-because, God, it just eels
so good to breathe-and tiny black dots scat-
ter across our eyes, cloning until the world has
disappeared, we`ll wish or one more moment,
but it`ll neer come. 1hen we`ll ulll an inei-
table end to a billion dierent lies.
Death is a uniersal ineitability. Alzheimer`s
isnot.
1hat ineitability belongs to me.
My grandmother had been getting bad
or years. 1hat`s what we called it-getting
bad.` It stung less than a clinical diagnosis, and
I guess it was a way o stupidly pretending
that what was happening to her was okay. 1hat
she`d be orgetul, but wouldn`t orget us.
But she isn`t getting anymore. Now, she`s got.
1he entrance to the memory-care unit
where my grandmother lies is nanked with
a bulky, beeping keypad. I the door opens
rom either side without the proper code,
a blaring alarm rings throughout the entire
unit. 1he bored workers spring rom their
non-existent tasks, swarming. Most o the
patients barely een notice when the alarm
is set o.
Are they patients 1his isn`t a medically
run acility. But what else can they be called
Inhabitants Dwellers Clients No term can
1he Ineitability
o Llsewhere
Meredith Jefers
28 \RI11LN lOR \R1 114
do justice to the unwilling and unknowing im-
prisonment o dozens whose memories hae
disintegrated.
My grandmother is classied as a wanderer.
In the middle o the night, she`ll careully step
out o bed and into her slippers, shuning
into the hallway, nursing her bad hip. Some-
times she helps the night sta old washcloths
until she decides she`s tired again. Other times
she`s Goldilocks, sneaking into someone else`s
room, hanging her robe on their hook, sleep-
ingintheirbed.
I sometimes wonder i she wanders just
to get lost. I she pads around with a acant
grin, searching or something she isn`t sure ex-
ists, or i she`s trying to disappear. Iow sad
would that be All she wants is to be lost, but
she can`t escape the ineitability that, at some
point, she`ll be ound.
\
hen I was in eighth grade, my
grandmother`s sister, Mary, died o
complications rom Alzheimer`s.
She was the rst person in our amily to lie
long enough to deelop the disease. Lery-
one else died abruptly and too young. Cancer,
heart attacks, strokes-these were the initial
killers o my amily.
It must hae been so scary or my grand-
mother to witness her bossy older sister re-
gress like that. 1he worst was near the end,
when Mary had to be spoon-ed. I didn`t know
much about her other than she kept root beer
candies on the coee table and had a dentist`s
chair in her basement. But een I cringe at the
image o a tiny, rail woman who has orgot-
tenhowtoeat.
I I eer get bad-really bad-I want you
to drie me to the beach, buy me an ice cream
cone, and take me or a sunset stroll on the
pier. 1hen, when we reach the end, I`d like you
to push me in.`
\e used to laugh and roll our eyes, droning,
Okay, Grandma.` But now I hae to wonder
i there was an element o seriousness in it. I
she would rather hae died tragically than hae
had to suer through this mental decay.
No, wait-my grandmother isn`t suer-
ing. Ier days don`t exist since her mind is
trapped elsewhere. She`s happy. It`s a sort
o hopeless, pitiul happiness that leaes a
perpetual hal-smile on her lips, despite her
not haing a clue what she`s smiling about.
But it`s still happiness.
It eels wrong to say that I`m suering
more than she is. Im not losing my mind or
my memories or my ability to erbalize what
I need to say. But my grandmother doesn`t
know these things are happening to her. She`s
stuck in some indecipherable time period in
which I do not exist, and I`m not een sure
i she exists in it either. She`s lost, and she`s
okay with it.
She`s lost, and I`m not okay with it.
Death has become a recurring topic o
discussion in my amily. \e`e come to the
unanimous conclusion that we don`t want to
end up like my grandmother. Not because we
would suer. But because eeryone around
us would.
Alzheimer`s is tricky like that.
Quickly and painlessly: that`s how we`d all
like to go. My aunt wants to hae a heart attack
while she`s out jogging, just tip oer in a ditch
and die, and my cousin Katy always says, I I
eer get like that, please just shoot me.`
Quick and painless, like a bullet.
B
eore my grandmother`s stroke, when
she was in a uzzy middle stage be-
tween seere dementia and ull-blown
Alzheimer`s, my mom droe her to the beach
and bought her a chocolate ice cream cone.
1hen we took a stroll.`
Oh, God. Please don`t tell me she`s noat-
ing acedown in the lake right now.`
She isn`t.` 1ears were collecting in the cor-
ners o her eyes, but she didn`t cry. Instead,
L
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IN1LR1LX1 2012 |29
my mother sadly smiled and said, 1hey`e
built a ence at the end o the pier.`
M
y grandmother lies in a prison
with paintings o beaches bolted to
the walls. It seems cruel to me. No
matterwhereshewanders,mygrandmotheris
surrounded by endless watercolor reminders
thatshesstillhere.
In September, during my senior year o
high school, my grandmother had a stroke. I
returned home to an empty house, to an ur-
gently written Call Me note
resting on the kitchen table.
I`m at the hospital,` my
mother whispered. Grand-
ma had a stroke.`
Oh.`
1he rest o the coner-
sation is hazy in my mind. I
think I might hae oered
to drie to the hospital, but
it was an empty initation.
I didn`t know my way, and
I didnt want to see her,
sprawled on a sti hospital
bed, breathing through her
mouth beneath a nickering
nuorescent light.
Idontremembercrying.
I think I was in shock.
Not because my grand-
mother-the sweet, stub-
born woman who taught me
the art o holding a grudge and kept expired
cereals in her pantry-had a stroke, but be-
cause that last strand o hope had nally
burned away.
1hrough the jumble o words that spilled
rom my grandmother`s mouth, she man-
aged to tilt her head eer so slightly toward
my mom and ask in a weak, trembling oice,
\hat happened to me`
1he moments o clarity in the thickness
o conusion.
1he rst time I cried was the rst night my
grandmother moed into the memory-care
acility. 1he rst I`d seen her since the stroke.
On her door was a homemade sign: \el-
come,Josie!
1he only people who called my grand-
mother Josie were the people who didn`t know
her. 1o eeryone else, she was Jo, a eisty pis-
tol whose bluntness matched her one-syllabic
name. But I guess she`s dierent now, a com-
pletely new entity, docile and serene. Maybe
sheisJosie.
She seemed so little when
I saw her, as i she`d shrunk,
compacted. Ier glasses were
missing, but the indentations
o the rims were imprinted on
the bridge o her nose. I tried
not to touch her because I was
scared she might break.
1he stroke didn`t aect her
physically, it struck another
blow to her brain, wiping away
the ew memories she`d been
holdingonto.
I`m now orced to introduce
mysel to my grandmother:
Ii, Grandma! It`s Meredith,`
like I used to when I called to
inite mysel or a sleepoer.
But back then, she`d always
chuckle and say, I know. I rec-
ognize your oice.`
Now she no longer recognizes my ace, but
she always tells me I`m beautiul.
My grandmother still had the plastic tag
rom the hospital tied around her wrist when
we went to isit her that night. She stalked
around her room, peering around corners as
i searching or a ghost, mumbling things I
couldn`t understand. 1he longer we stayed,
the more I dgeted. Zipping and unzipping
my sweatshirt, umbling with the an because
sh
I
co
m
o
th
no
sc
ph
bl
th
ho
m
I
lik
in
Bu
ch
og
1he
moments
o
clarityin
the
thickness
o
conusion.`
30
the room was so stuy and warm. I wanted
to leae. I needed to leae. I`d completed my
good deeds or the century.
\hen my mother nally absorbed my
wordless cues, she hugged my grandmother
tight. She kissed her cheek and repeated
cycles o I loe you, I loe you, I loe you.
1hen it was my turn. I wrapped my arms
around my grandma`s neshy back and she
squeezed me in return, laughing because she
didn`t know what she had done to desere
all this aection. 1hen when I stepped away,
shesmiledatme,reealingasinglemissing
toothandsaid,moreclearlythanshedsaid
anything all night, I loe you.`
She didn`t know who I was. She didn`t
know that I was Meredith, her youngest
granddaughter, the only child o Stephanie.
But she must hae known, despite the uzzi-
ness in her brain, that she was supposed to
loe me. 1hat she did loe me.
I`d neer been so crippled beore that
moment. 1he second my mother and I
stepped into the hallway, I bent orward
and began weeping. 1he abruptness let
me breathless. Grie is a terrible thing ater
someone has died, but I sometimes wonder
i grieing the loss o someone who`s still
hereisworse.
\ou know that part in the moies, right
ater the climactic breakup in the rain, when
the girl runs o, sobbing, because she`s
loed the wrong person through the entire
rst hal o the lm, and decides she must,
must, must see her soulmate and proess
her undying loe or him, right this mo-
ment 1hen she gets in her rusty, unreliable
car and dries some absurd distance to stop
him rom boarding a train,plane,bus, still
sobbing.
It was like that, only crying and driing is
a signiicantly harder combination than any
moie makes it seem. I elt like my heart
was broken in a dierent way. 1he ending
to the moie starring the girl and the boy
will undoubtedly be happy. 1hey`ll reunite,
all back in loe, and lie happily eer ater,
theend.
1he moie starring my blank-aced
grandmother is equally predictable, but in
the way that you`re praying some deus ex
machina will crack through and oerturn
eerything you thought you knew, but real-
izing, secretly, as you`re wringing your hands
and biting back tears, that it won`t.
I beliee in elsewhere ater death. Maybe
its not heaen, or hell, or anything in be-
tween, but it`s somewhere. Alzheimer`s is
elsewhere beore death. A parallel unierse
o happiness where memories don`t matter
because eerything is irreocably present.
Sometimes I eel as i I`m not grasp-
ing my memories tightly enough. I`m too
wound up, too ocused on the uture. \es,
I hae a lie beyond this moment, but I also
hae a lie in this moment, and that matters
eenmore.
Alzheimer`s is an inherited mental col-
lapse.
I wonder i it hurts to lose your mind, i
there`s a physical eeling o memories slip-
ping away, or a tugging in the brain as it at-
tempts to remember a name.
I hope not.
At least or my grandmother, I hope it
doesn`t hurt.
I beliee in elsewhere ater death.`
IN1LR1LX1 2012 | 31
iiiii RRiiiiiiiiisssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssskkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnndddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeddoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm RRRRRRRRiiiiiiisssssssskkkkkkkkssssssss aaaaaaaannnnnnnnnddddddd FFFFFFFrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeedddddddoooooooommmmmmmm
O
n April 9, 2011, I set mysel ree.
1hatwasthedayIdecidedtobeliee
in the power o taking risks. Legs
shaking,heartracing,andeelingseerelynau-
seous, I walked sheepishly around the track
inapurpleshirtwithpeopleIneerthought
I would meet, letting two thousand college
students know something I neer thought I
wouldreeal.
Iamacancersurior,anduntilthatday,I
hidintheshadows.
lor the past teen years, I had lied in
Allison Clark
eny o the suriors who were proud o
theircondition,thosewhoeltasthoughthey
could surmount any challenge. 1heyd gone
undertheknieandspentayearwithouthair.
lorme,justthinkingaboutthediseaseIaced
at age e made me want to cry. My amily
neertalksaboutit.SoIgrewupwiththeim-
pressionthatitwassomethingtobeashamed
o.Iwasanythingbutproud,andIrarelytold
anyone. I wanted to orget eerything and
manytimes,Idid.
Lery year rom then on, I took the train
\RI11LNlOR\R1301
32
Allison (right) with her friends at Relay For Life.
down to the Childrens Iospital o Philadel-
phia or my check ups to be poked, X-rayed
andstuckwithneedles,holdingbacktearsthe
wholetime.
But things began to change this all when
I met Ieather, whoat the risk o sounding
terriblyclichchangedmylie.Areshmanat
SU, Ieather was nishing her last months o
treatment or non-Iodgkins lymphoma, with
which she had been diagnosed at age sixteen.
Unlikemysel atthetime,Ieatherhadnoin-
hibitionsaboutthedisease.Shehaddecidedto
deoteherlietothecause.Asacommunica-
tionsandrhetoricalstudiesmajor,shehopedto
work or a nonprot as a motiational speaker.
She wanted to tell the world her story and let
eeryoneknowthatanychallengecanbeoer-
come. I told her my ,signicantly less inspiring,
story,andsheencouragedmetogetmorein-
oledwithRelaylorLie.IdbeendoingRelay
oryears,butneereltpassionateaboutit,and
hadneerhadthecouragetowalkthesurior
lap. I let it up in the air but didnt think Id
reallytaketheplunge.Iwasaraidthatpeople
wouldaskmequestionsortreatmedierently
orawkwardlyi theyknew.
Oerthenextmonths,Iponderedthepros
and cons o getting inoled with Relay. By
January, I still had yet to conince mysel to
make a decision. Until I learned that, ater
just one semester in college, Ieather had re-
lapsed,andwouldhaetostayathomeorthe
remaindero theyearormore.
I couldnt beliee it. She o all people did
notdeseretogothroughthisalloeragain.
At that moment, I started to think seriously
aboutparticipatinginherhonor.Icameback
toSyracuseorthesecondsemester,signedup
orRelayandbecameacaptainorourAPO
team.Iwasgoingtooutmysel asasuri-
or. And I was absolutely terried.
llash orward to mid-April o that year,
andInoweltlikeacompletelydierentper-
son compared to who I was in September.
I nally got it-the whole theory o being
proud o the challenges youe aced. Get-
tingupthereinronto eeryonetowalkthe
suriorlapwasoneo thehardestthingsIe
eerdone.Itscaredmetodeath.Andi Idoit
nextyear,itwillstillbeachallenge.ButIthink
Imonmyway.
Cancersucks.Andtryingtothinkaboutit
as a positie thing is nearly impossible. As it
shouldbe.ButthelessonImtryingtoconey
issomethingdierent.\es,thechallengeswe
acedohaethepotentialtomakeusstronger,
butonlyi weactuponthem.Iacedachal-
lenge at age e. It took me teen years o
being terried o that challenge to realize how
todealwithit.Andonthenighto Relaylor
Lie, I nally set mysel ree o the secret that
Ihadbeenkeepingorsolong.
1akingrisksmakesyougrow.Imnotaraid
o mypastanymore,atleastorthemostpart.
Idontthinkthesilenceinmyamilywilleer
change, but Im willing to lie with that, at
leastornow.LikeIeather,InoweelIhae
the right, duty, and priilege to use what hap-
penedtometohelpothers.Shetaughtmeto
be proud, and I nally am. Coming out o my
comort zone or that night was one o the
most rewarding things Ie eer done. I dont
knowi peopleseemedierently,andIdont
reallycare.IjustknowthatIeelamilliontimes
more condent about it, and I want to make
a dierence. And writing this is where I start.
1hisisatestamenttotheactthatIamree.
IN1LR1LX12012|33
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Fa mi l y Po r t r a i t
I
cannot wait until youre gone, my
mother said to me as I let or the
gymanhourearlierthanplannedin
order to get away rom her. I was toasting a
pieceo breadwhenshecamedownstairs:
Isthatmybreadsheasked.
I suppose so...but I gured I could hae
apiece,rightItiptoedaroundher,reaching
orthepeanutbutter.
1hatsM\bread!Didyouputatwisttie
onit
No...there wasnt one on it when I took
apiece.
\oureruiningmyood!Areyouplanning
onbuyingmemorebread
Mom, youre being ridiculous, Im going
tothegym!
I cannot wait until youre gone... ,door
slams,.
I
cycled or an hour, then droe home. I
walked upstairs and into her room. 1he
phonerang.
Getit,shesaid.
IelloIanswered.
Llizabeth!\hereareyou!
My grandma`s oice was shaky.
Imathome,why
1urn on the news!` she sounded relieed.
I turned the teleision on and saw the head-
line: Shooting at LA litness, Pittsburgh, 3
\omenShotDead,9Iurt.
\IA1 IS 1IIS! I screamed, Mom!
DoyouseethisGrandma,whathappened!
1his isnt my gym, is it Its a dierent LA
litness.
No, it`s the one you go to by the moie
theater,` my grandma said. I didn`t beliee her,
butasIcontinuedtowatchthereport,Isaw
theclose-upso thegym,thegymIwaswork-
34
Ll i zabet h Bennet t
ing out in one hour preiously.
Amanwhowasangrywiththeworld,who
thought women were eil and wanted to teach
themalesson,hadwalkedintomygymwith
hisgymbagcontainingthreegunsandopened
re beore shooting himsel in the head. 1his
happened only moments ater I let. Iad I
gone to the gym when I was supposed to,
an hour ater I actually did leae, I would hae
been there when it happened. I would hae
been dead or wounded or traumatized. But
this didn`t happen to me. I got into a ght with
mymotherandletearly.
Apparently, the man came in while I was
stillatthegym,butwasreluctantandlet,only
to come back 40 minutes later. I was lucky.
\hatwouldmypresentliebelikenowhadI
beenthere\hatkindo personwouldIbe
\ould I hae helped people or ran \ould I
hae been brae
1hank goodness I will neer know, thank
goodnessIwasnotthere.Butalongwithbe-
ing relieed and thankul, I was angry with my
mother:
Mom, do you realize that the last thing
yousaidtomebeoreIwenttothegymwas,
I cannot wait until youre gone \hat i I
hadbeenthere,MomIthoughtmaybeshed
change, she`d apologize or say she couldn`t be-
liee it or that she was glad I suried.
Ierresponse:\ell...Iguessthenmywish
would`e come true.`
I should hae been there when he shot all
thosewomen.Iadmymothernotwishedme
gone, I would`e been killed. I`m sorry or
eating your breadbut Im not sorry that I
missed the massacre. \hen those nags go up
torememberthegirlswhoperished,putone
up or me as well. Because that was the day
your daughter died, Mom. 1hat was the day
L
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IN1LR1LX12012|35
I realized that my mother was not a human,
butanalien.
1hat was the day I realized I had a lot to
gure out.
Growing up with an abusie mother and an
absentather,mybrotherandItookourhurt
andrustrationoutoneachother.Ourgrand-
parents called this sibling rialry` but I call it
how my brother and I kept ourseles rom
killingourmother.Iusedtotattleonhim
becausei herattentionwasonhim,thenthat
meantitwasnotonme.\henmymotherig-
noredmeandmademeeeluseless,I,inturn,
did that to my brother. Ie would come into
thekitchen,
Liz!! 1oday in sch-sch-school we did a
wedida
SPI1I1OU1,GRLG!Goddddddd!Sch-
Sch-Sch-what
\edidawedidaproject.AndIandI
Imsorry,IjustdontcareIletthekitch-
enandranupstairs.
,\hen I was little, I loed my baby brother.
Iusedtotakehimintotheturtlesandboxin
ourbackyard,beoreouramilyellapart,and
put stuls o sand in his hair without him
noticing.1hen,Iwouldsitandpickthesand
out o his hair. I loed taking care o him. I
couldntdomuchorhimbecauseIwasonly
seen mysel. But, I could get the sand out o
his hair, een i I was responsible or putting
it there in the rst place.,
I
t took oer three years o college-study-
ing human behaior, intentions, writing
andreasoningtorealizewhyIhadbeen
so horrible to him: I elt powerless next to
mymother.
She would be so horrible to me, and I
wouldgetupset,butthenherNiceSwitch
would go o and I would eel guilty and
gorunningbacktoher.1hiscreatedaGen-
eralized Anxiety and Panic Disorder within
me. I neer knew what kind o mood she
wouldbeinori shewouldbenicetomeor
i she would accidentally burn me in the
oreheadwithacurlingironbeoreShabbat
serices.
Insteado talkingtomybrotheraboutthis
heartacheweshared,Itookmyangerouton
him,andhetookhisoutonme.Maybethats
whatsiblingsareor.
Maybe sibling rialries` exist so that kids
dontlashoutontheirparents.
1
his 1hanksgiing break, I thought my
mother would be nice to me. I came
home or an entire week, and I was
staying at her house. I babysat or two days
straight, then returned home. She was laying
inherbed,depressed,at3p.m.
Ieymom,howareyou
line,sherepliedunenthusiastically,Iow
areyou
Imspent,Isaid.
Oh yeah, I`m sure you hae tons o prob-
lems. Did your husband leae you`
\hatIwasconuseddidIcomplain
orsomething
I dont need details about your lie,
Llizabeth, it was a simple question, she re-
pliedcruelly.
...Mom!\ouaskedmehowIwas!
I know.and I said ne.`
\esthen you asked me how I was and
Isaidspent!
\es.AndIdontcare.Idontneeddetails!
Sowhat,Mom,werejustsupposedtonot
talkallbreak!
Iguessnot.
I
was boiling. 1hats ucking it Mom. I
amdone.IamgoingtostaywithDad!
Ihadjustgotteno thephonewithmy
psychologistwhosaid,Liz,whatwouldhap-
pen i you did leae your Mom and stay with
yourDadIthinkitmaybegoodoryou!
36 \RI11LNlOR\R1422
Iranintomyroomandboltedthedoorshut.
I heard aintly, \hat.you`re going to leae me
liketheresto themIthoughtyouwere
I didn`t let her nish. I wasn`t letting her
NiceSwitchguiltmeintostayinginaplace
o uncaring. I blasted music. Ironically, the
song,Crylor\ouwasplaying:
\ou`ll neer see me again. So now who`s
gonna cry or you \ou`ll neer see me again.
Nomatterwhatyoudo.
I was lying on the noor with my hands in
ronto me,croucheddownsomyeyeswere
leel with the noor. I squinted so I could see i
shewasstillstandingthere,andsureenough,
her eet were planted parallel to each other
andperpendiculartomydoor.Iwastrapped.
Ikeptundoingandredoingmyponytail:It
waspissingmeo!Itdidnteelright.Iwant-
edthishairo o myhead.
Igrabbedapairo scissorsandcuto my
ponytail.
I looked at mysel in the mirror. I aintly
heardmymotherscreamingandkickingout-
sideo thedoor.Ineededachange.Iwasnt
goingtoenduplikeher.Iwatchedthepairo
scissorsasItextedmybrother:
Greg. I need to leae now. Please, please
come pick me up. I just gae mysel bangs.`
Iisreply:Putthescissorsdown,Imcoming.
I wouldn`t hae been able to leae that
house without him. Ie came into my room
and grabbed my suitcase: this eighteen-year-
oldmanwhosprungupwithoutmynoticing.
\eboltedpastthewomanwhocreatedthen
nearlyruinedusboth.Pastscreamso,Dont
you two dare come or 1hanksgiing` and i
you leae now, I swear I`ll..`
Iwatchedhimashestartedthecarhepaid
or with his own money. Ie reed the gas
he bought and lled himsel. Ie droe me
to our ather`s house.I didn`t een know
thedirections.
\hendidhegetsohandsome\hendid
hegrowabeard
IstaredatthebrotherIhadmissedmyen-
tirelie.
My amily photo sits ironically in place,
showingthesmilesoneacho ouraces.
Myamilyaphase.
I
n that photo, my dad smiles een
though at the time o the photo ,the
photo in which his one arm is around
mymotherandhisotherarmisaroundthe
real loe o his lie, Ramona the canine,,
he was slowly plotting his escape rom my
mother,hiswie.
Inthisphoto,Ismile.ButIdontreallysmile
like that, at least, I`e neer seen mysel smile
likethat.\hycantpeopleseethroughthat
In this photo, Im smiling. But that isnt a
realsmile.Justlikethatisntarealamily.
Not eerything is the way it seems. Neer
stop questioning. Neer be satised until you
get the answers you need. I`e been disap-
pointed, but that doesnt mean Im always
going to be disappointed. I`e been hurt, but
now I know how not to lie my lie. I am
thankulorthis.
I am thankul or the childhood I had
becauseittaughtmehowtotreatpeople
the opposite o how my parents treated
each other. It taught me how to loe peo-
ple-the opposite o how my parents loed
each other. And it taught me to beliee in
mysel. Len i I`m the only one who does.
Becausei Idont,
i Idonthope
i Idontdream,
i Idontwrite,
and i I don`t thrie,
Illendupjustlikethem.

AndIsimplyreusetodothat.
IN1LR1LX12012|3
Acceptance
A
cceptanceisanelusietopicthato-
ten comes up between people who
eel placed on the outside. \hile a
paradox, we nd power in both exclusiity
and inclusiity. \e tend not to eel these emo-
tions directly. \e worke towards them, under
the stipulation that the disconnected eelings
willsubside.
Acceptance must come rom within. \ou
can ask it o others all you want, and do what-
eer it takes to obtain it. But ultimately, it is
a ruitless eort i you do not accept your-
sel rst. 1he pieces presented here capture
thestruggleseachwriterenduresinaccepting
the truths in their lies. 1hese powerul texts
embrace the imperections we all carry, while
championing the personal struggles to oer-
come. On some leel, there is a sense o ca-
maraderie with the authors internal eelings.
Being on the outside is a part o lie, oercom-
ingitisliinglie.
-Geneiee Anita 1homas
Lditor
I
dentity: it is constructed, certainly, but by
who exactly is a less denite matter. lrom
the time we enter this world, our personas
begin to orm beyond our control. \here I am
rom, what my parents do or a liing, what I
look like, the manner in which I speak, I am
judged or all o these, regardless o who I really
am as a person, regardless o my true identity.
So we dene ourseles by comparison so
oten, measuring up to society`s yardstick. And
yet, it is in this process that so many indiiduals
lose themseles. 1hey only recognize who they
hae become when they are at the end o their
rope. I you nd yoursel there, then you hae
become strikingly aware that while a judgmen-
tal culture has hijacked you, it is still or you to
decide who you will become.
Inthosemomentso loss,desperation,or
acilitated renection that you are conscious
o how your enironment has shaped you,
and how you hae shaped your eniron-
ment, good, bad, or otherwise. And yes, we
are dynamic beings. It is not in our nature to
Reerberationso Connectedness
M
aking the trek rom my last class
to the basement o Iendricks
Chapel,IeelthecoldMarchwind
blow through the eening air, and it stings my
neck and ace like bits o abrasie abric slap-
ping my bare skin. It is 5:43 p.m. I am alone
and in desperate need o coee. I walk quickly
and struggle to bury my head in the collar o
my coat. \et, I hesitate or a moment as I pass
by the high-rising stairs o the iconic chapel
because next to them, I obsere a seemingly
undressed tree ercely illuminated by an arti-
cial glow rom the streetlamp behind it. 1he
tree branches extend radially in a network sys-
tem o woody dendrites-innitely small and
endlessly complex. Len the tiniest branch is
aparto thismomentouswhole,anoshoot
o the massie trunk that xes each limb in its
place. 1his image resonates in my memory as
areerberationo connectedness.
linally, I make my way to the chapel. As I
cross the entryway rom the outside, a nood
o amiliarities bombard my awareness. I
linger by the staircase or a minute, listening
to a lingering melody o the chapel organ that
noats down the staircase, slowly and grace-
ully hoering, only just audible. 1he organ
notes are broken by interals o noise, laugh-
ter bursting orth rom the Noble Room, a
cluster o een-toned musings rom the i-
cinity o the Muslim Students` Association,
and the dissonant sound o a radio presum-
ably hiding in the headquarters o People`s
Place. A perading smell o coee saturates
this space, and, it ties the threads o discord
together.Ieelathomeatonce.
1he images o the tree and the chapel
space are quite dierent and yet both echo
a perception o community, whether natural
or constructed. In this issue o Intertext, the
positioning o community as a ramework or
question and change is threaded through se-
eral pieces. Our writers do more than bring
tolieanemblematicresemblanceo commu-
nity, they test the boundaries o those which
they hae participated in or are interested in.
Our writers build, tear down, and ultimately
38
SECTION INTRO
remain static. But it is also not inherent that
we change in sel-directed manners that are
inormed by our experience and not simply by
aninstinctualresponse.
Are you happy with who you are Are you
content with the decisions that hae inari-
ably resulted in the person you hae become
It is not bad i your answer is no. Rather, it is
that personal honesty that allows you to con-
sciously progress into the person you want to
be. As much as society may condition us to
seek external acceptance, the endeaor is use-
less i you cannot accept yoursel. \hat good
is the acceptance o a sea o aces when you
hae trouble looking at your own It is surely a
struggle, as we all desire to nd our place. But
seeking the approal o a relentlessly demand-
ing society is a task that ultimately hollows you
out. Choose to be the person you desire to be
and you may nd yoursel rejected by some,
and judged by many. But or those who do ac-
cept you, you will nd yoursel in the company
o people who make you proud o who you
are, people who show you that you do belong.
1hese next pieces tackle dicult questions
o identity and social acceptance, each in their
own, unique way. 1hey exempliy the tension
between meeting your own expectations or
yoursel and meeting social norms. By explor-
ing the diculty posed by sel-renection, they
discoer the good it may lead to. lundamentally,
each piece asks us to be honest with ourseles
in a way that is both rightening and unsettling,
but strangely cathartic at the same time.
Acceptance is something that needs
to come rom within. \ou can ask it o
others all you want, but ultimately you need to
accept yoursel. 1he pieces displayed here
depictstruggleswithdierenceandtheneed
to question our assumptions. 1hese powerul
texts raise awareness that eeryone is imper-
ectandhasastruggleo theirowntooer-
come.Onsomeleel,thereisaeelingo ca-
maraderie with the authors internal eelings.
Being on the outside is a part o lie, oercom-
ingitisliinglie.GeorgeLdinger,Lditor
Identity
reconstruct the metaphorical walls o these
communities to reduce the complexities o
the group to a concentrated essence which
xes together indiidual members. At the crux
o theirthematicision,ourwriterssearchor
the trunk o the tree that unites its branches.
And they nd it. Readers will be able to deci-
pher in our writers` works the adhesies which
bind communities together, and, he or she
willexperiencehoweachwriterexertsapush,
animpulseo tension,justattheborderso
theseinterlacingties.
Iere, in the \riting Program, we sustain a
sense o community, one that unites students,
instructors, and community members alike.
1o reduce us to an essence, a concentrated
core, might seem impossible. 1he diersity in
this department is proound. But, in my opin-
ion, the trunk o our tree, the connectedness
thatmoesusallinthesamedirection,atleast
in some aspect o our lies, is an innate im-
pulse to lie our lies suspended in a world
o words.
MargaretSpinosa,Lditor
C
ommunity is one o lie`s best intan-
gibles. It surrounds us both guratiely
and literally, but no one could eer
pick it out o a scene like \here`s \aldo`
It has no real identity, and I think that`s my
aorite part about it. Community lies in the
eyes o the beholders. \ou. Me. Len that
guy in the coee shop who always wears too
much atershae. \e all hold a special bond
with each other, but the bonds are dierent.
1hough these contrasting iews hardly matter,
whatsimportantisthatwealleelconnected
through something. It might be a space, an
areao interest,orasimplemattero taste.
\iththelatestissueo Intertext,wehopeto
extend that eeling o harmony on the page.
By grappling with writers` indiidual senses o
community, the authors inadertently create a
community amongst themseles. Iopeully,
you will all respond to their work or dierent
reasonsandjointheirwebo ideas.
-llash Steinbeiser, Lditor
IN1LR1LX1 2012 | 39

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SUSAN HAMILTON
AcollaborationbetweentheGiordStreetCommunityPress,
SyracuseAllianceoraNewLconomy,SANL,,and1he\riting
Programo 1heCollegeo ArtsandSciencesledtoHome: Journeys
into the Westside. \erepleasedtopublishacontributionromthat
collectionby\estsidecommunitymemberSusanIamilton.
Finding Shelter
From the Storm
Gotohttp:,,www.giordstreetcommunitypress.org
tolearnmoreabouttheGiordStreetCommunityPress.
40
M
yinitialencounterwiththeneighborhood
was accidentalI got lost on a street
that eered o diagonally and took
me to an unexpected destination. In the same
way, I didnt really plan to lie here. I owned a
homeontheSouthwestside,andthoughIwas
dissatised with its lack o porches, its small
yard, and the size o the mortgage payment,
I was not actiely looking to moe. 1hen, an
acquaintancewhoknowsIlikeoldhousesurged
metotouronethatwascominguporsaleon
Iolland Street. 1he preious owner had died
in her 90s, leaing this house something like a
museum. Most o its Victorian splendor was
intact, right down to the intricately wrought
metal pulls on the pantry drawers, and I was
immediatelyhooked.1heareadidntrightenme,
it reminded me o Deep Rondo, the inner-city,
raciallymixedneighborhoodinSt.PaulwhereI
liedasayoungchild.I had been working as a
community organizer on the Near \estside, so
Ialreadyknewsomeo mynewneighbors.But
Iwasntblindtotheproblems,suchasthedrug
house across the street and decades o neglect
by local goernment. 1he lot next door, where
a house had been set are to coer up a burglary,
hadbeenacantormorethanadecadeandused
asaninormaldump.\henIboughtmyhouse,
Ibegancleaningoutthelotstrashandtryingto
mowthethicketo weeds,sometallerthanmy
head, with a push mower. \hen drug dealers
would congregate at the curb, I walked around
them, picking up the ood wrappers and subtly
giingthemessagethatItoohadaroletoplay
andaclaimtothatspace.
A little oer two years later, early in the
morning o Labor Day 1998, a reak storm
blastedSyracuse.Iwasawakenedbytheshriek
o aboxanbeingblownouto thewindow
by 115 mph winds. I closed windows and
laid back down on the bed, which moed as
the whole house swayed. Lightning nashed
green outside, like strobe lights, and thunder
punctuatedthesoundo allingtrees.\henI
got dressed and went downstairs, I could not
see out the windows because they were all
streakedwithrain.Iopenedthebackdoorand
couldseeonlyleaeswheremycarwasparked.
MydogChe,terrorizedbythestorm,cowered
at my eet. Beore I could decide whether to
take reuge in the basement, the worst o the
storm passed. 1he electricity went outand
wouldnotberestoredoraweek.Peeringout
therontdoor,Icouldaguelyseetheshapes
o bigtreesontheground,powerlinessnared
in their branches. 1hen I heard oices rom
thedarkness.Agroupo youngmenromthe
surroundinghousesappeared,holdingcanso
beer and nashlights. 1hey asked i I was OK,
and I told them I was araid that my car had
beencrushed.Disregardingthedangero allen
electrical wires, a couple o them scrambled
oer branches to reach the backyard and
returned to report that the car was unscathed
underamoundo smalltwigs.1hentheguys
moedontothenexthouse,callingouttothe
tenantstoseei theyneededhelp.
As I came back inside to comort my dog,
I realized that or the rst time I really elt at
home in this neighborhood, where people do
lookoutoreachotherandpulltogetherduring
crises. During the next week o post-storm
recoery,peoplesharedoodromtheirreezers,
told where ice could be purchased, helped one
another cut up trees that littered yards, and
cheered together when the Iydro Ontario
trucks sent rom Canada nally restored power
to our streets. 1hough still neglected by local
goernment,wecouldtakecareo eachother.
IN1LR1LX12012|41
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42
nds it humorous that his practice o parkour
still perplexes his riends. \e`re in a society
where eeryone is araid,` Belle states. lear
will always be there.` But in moments o
weakness, he reassures himsel o his own
internal strength through parkour.
As cities became increasingly deeloped,
poorer immigrant amilies were orced out o
the Parisian city centers into the outer subur-
ban areas. \ith this urban growth, buildings
and other inrastructures became represen-
tatie o the widening gap between classes.
According to Nathan Guss, author o
Parkour and the Multitude: Politics o a
Dangerous Art,` the lrench suburbs deel-
oped rom the increased housing shortages
in 1960s Paris. Ioweer, the new houses
were poorly built. 1hey slowly underwent
physical degradation,` mainly due to dis-
tance rom the urban core and its serices,
cultural shops and actiities` ,Guss 5,.
Interestingly enough, it wasn`t the adults,
but the children who would expand the art
o parkour. Many o the rst-generation
immigrant children elt alienated and dis-
empowered because they were neither in-
tegrated into the culture o their parents
nor their country` ,Guss 5,. 1hey elt that
their urban enironment misunderstood
and conned them. As a result, they ound
relie through parkour, propelling them-
seles into a ar riskier enironment. 1hey
resisted the normality o urban culture by
utilizing a unique orm o transportation:
their own hands, eet, and mind. Rooted
in cosmopolitan rebellion, practitioners o
parkour elt that social stigma attached itsel
to the architecture. 1hey saw inrastructure
as a way to control the masses and eidence
o increasing socioeconomic diision. lor
example, the noor leel a amily or indiidual
lied on was oten eident o their social
status. 1hese architects-under the rule o
higher classes-acilitated it. 1raceurs retali-
1
he art o parkour represented an
unusual illustration o cultural dis-
sent. 1raceurs, or people who prac-
ticed parkour in 190s lrance, did not at-
tempt to inoke structural change. Instead,
they stried to alter society`s current attitudes
toward the use o space, along with their
own rame o understanding and role with-
in it. leeling physically, socially, and economi-
cally restricted by the Parisian architecture,
traceurs established reedom through par-
kour and quietly remoed themseles rom
the elements o perceied control.
Parkour was unique in nding a oice
through public space. 1raceurs did not pro-
test with picket signs or rallies but through
resistance o physical expectations. 1hey
jumped across building rootops, swung
rom railings, and leapt to trajectories with
the greatest ease. Many traceurs dened par-
kour dierently, and many still question its
meaning and purpose behind this physical art
orm. lor instance, many scholars argue that
parkour played a greater role in Paris than
mere acrobatics. Also known as ree running,
it has been practiced or oer hal a century.
Parkour was widely utilized throughout the
Vietnam \ar by the lrench military as a
way to cross unexpected jungle terrain with
speed and eciency. It wasn`t until the late
190s, howeer, that actor, choreographer,
and ounder, Daid Belle, coined the word
parkour` and grew the art orm into what
it is today.
Growing up in the Paris suburb o Lisses,
Belle practiced parkour as a way to e-
ciently pass any obstacle` he encountered
,Belle,. In an interiew with 8UEDQ )UHHRZ,
Belle denes parkour as a method o train-
ing which allows us to oercome obstacles,
both in the urban and natural enironments.`
Ie recalls how he helped his riend retriee
his keys rom a second-story apartment by
skillully scaling the building. Belle practically
IN1LR1LX1 2012 | 43
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ated with the practice o parkour as a peace-
ul expression o their reclaim o social con-
trol. 1hey organized combat against these
systemized methods o moement through
their enironment.
Parkour also held a political purpose. During
an era o high-prole riots and reolts,`
the lrench suburbs sered as centers or
40 years o intensie goernmental poli-
cies` ,Guss,. 1hese areas o political reorm
were oten described as badlands,` spa-
tially isolated in order to control areas with
problematic populations` ,Guss,. 1his sur-
eillance and repression o Parisian politics
continued throughout the 1960s and een
into the late 1990s. Political upheaal com-
bined with increasing soci-
etal diisions caused Parisian
inhabitants to eel trapped by
poerty and spatial stigma. As
a result, many elt alienated
and disempowered` because
o the suburb`s marginaliza-
tion and lack o integration
,Guss 5,. Guss denes
these underlying eelings as
territorial stigmatisation,`
which aected interactions
with community members,
as well as police and street-
leel bureaucracies. Parkour,
thereore, allowed an es-
cape rom these eelings o
claustrophobia through spa-
tial reappropriation. Parkour
allowed them to eel more
empowered through danger-
ous, and oten lie-threat-
ening situations. 1his ght
against the city and social
hierarchy was combatted as
a struggle within themseles.
Although parkour may be
iewed as a conceptual orm
o resistance, it also carried a sense o in-
diidual, tangible meaning or each traceur.
Sophie luggle, author o Discourses o
Subersion: 1he Lthics and Aesthetics o
Capoeira and Parkour,` suggests that park-
our aimed to inscribe indiidual, subersie
rhythms against the more collectie uniorm
rhythms o eeryday city lie` ,luggle 219,.
1he main intention is to disrupt and chal-
lenge usage` ,luggle 219,. 1raceurs prac-
ticed their own indiidual rhythm, utilizing
public space and inrastructure in ways unlike
the rest o Paris.
1hereore, to practice parkour is to go
against the normality o social conention.
Like Daid Belle, luggle iews parkour as an
expression o indiidual strength
and sel-suciency. 1hey beliee
that parkour creates autonomy. By
solely relying on their own mind
and body, they eel condent in
themseles and in their training.
Parkour brings power back to the
indiidual, while creating a deep
sense o liberation within the tra-
ceur community. It empowers
them, whether it`s against one`s
own indiidual struggle or eco-
nomical and hierarchical struggle
o a larger scale. Ironically, the
physical danger rom parkour eases
their minds, proiding a peaceul
sense o emancipation rom archi-
tecture`s controlling properties.
1raceurs ormed their own
indiidual meaning rom the power
o architecture and channelled
that energy toward a new per-
ception o Paris. According to
Matthew Lamb, rom Bowling
Green State Uniersity, the popu-
lation perceies truth as a result
o a process o the struggle be-
tween indiiduals interlocked in
1raceurs
practiced
their own
indiidual
rhythm,
utilizing
public space
and inra-
structure in
ways unlike
the rest o
Paris.`
44
WRITTEN FOR WRT 105
material and discursie social relationships`
,49,. Our social relations, in part, determine
our leel o power in society. Lamb urther
states that the truth about urban space is
perormed and reiterated through the built
enironment` ,50,. Although parkour origi-
nated rom dissent against the architects
and the oppressie higher class, it ultimately
seres as a way or traceurs to construct their
own reality and identity. Sophie luggle relates
to this concept, stating that parkour locates
subjectiity in one`s specic engagement in
the world` ,214,. 1heir identity orms by
how they relate to their surroundings.
In the same way, traceurs gain their own
meaning o themseles and their urban en-
ironment rom their interactions through
parkour. 1he traceur does not simply con-
rm the ,quite literally, concrete presence
o architecture structures, but rearms this
presence, changing the ery identity o such
structures` ,luggle 214-15,.
lor example, when a traceur scales the
wall o a building rather than use the stairs
inside, they see the building rom areas and
iewpoints largely
unseen. By doing
this, they alter the
literal unction o
the object. luggle
illustrates another
example when she
states, 1he use o
a window sill as a
oot-hold or hand-
rail as a launchpad
both arms and
challenges the es-
tablished identi-
ties o such items`
,215,. Since tra-
ceurs display these
l i e - t hr e a t e ni ng
jumps and acrobatics
in a public orum, they seek to change the
perception o architecture as well as how
others perceie them.
1hese acts also sere as a message to
the public. Spectators o parkour watch in
amazement as traceurs scale buildings and
swing rom railings with ease. It seres as
a public aair, and inoles not solely the
practitioners o this elite art orm, but soci-
ety as a whole. Like the people who actually
practice it, onlookers can gather their own
indiidual interpretation o the purpose be-
hind parkour. 1hey perorm an arguable art
orm that is ar rom normal. Going against
the grain and normality o social conention,
traceurs shock their audiences. 1he 190s
Parisian public must hae ormed a judg-
ment o the traceurs when they jumped rom
ledges and other dangerous terrain. Perhaps
it made them question their own perceptions
o public space and its eect on their daily
lies that would otherwise remain unnoticed.
1he purpose o parkour as Parisian cul-
tural dissent holds arying perspecties, but
one oerlying idea remains: eery traceur
gains meaning rom
public space. 1hey
see architecture as a
shaper o behaior
and innuencer o
society. On the oth-
er hand, these areas
o architecture also
increase opportuni-
ties or participa-
tion in communal
actiity. 1hey en-
courage growth o
public lie. 1hey
sere as a place
where eeryone can
come together in
mutual enjoyment.
Although park-
IN1LR1LX1 2012 | 45

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.
our is an art orm that has eoled and is still
practiced today, an understanding o these
oerlying concepts and philosophies behind
parkour can diagnose its role as cultural dis-
sent in 190s Paris. lor the Parisian suburban
youth, public space and metropolis architec-
ture carried a social, economic, political, and
oppressie agenda. 1hey were a group o
cultural dissenters, dissatised with society`s
iew o the purpose o public space. 1hey
sought to change the Parisian perception o
the world around them. Although they didn`t
make any type o structural change, they were
able to alter their own rame o understanding.
1hrough parkour, they were able to oercome
any type o psychological struggle.
So what is the relationship between the
abstract idea o power and concrete practice
o parkour 1raceurs question and test the
boundaries o their abilities, and when their
physical abilities surpass their expectations, it
may lead to an increase in sel-esteem and sel-
worth. During this era o social unrest in Paris,
traceurs oten belonged to the lower, working
class o adolescent males. Upper society made
them eel unworthy o indulgences, unworthy
o upward social mobility, and unworthy o
city lie and its corporate skyscrapers. 1hey lost
aith in the capitalist cityscape, so they regained
aith in themseles.
1here is a close relationship between power,
parkour, and reedom. Belle and other tra-
ceurs created parkour in Paris as a response
to the constraints o the city imposed by
those who possess power oer those who
do not` ,Lamb 41,. Ioweer, power itsel is
relatie. 1he leel o perceied power changes
depending on one`s own sel-awareness or
recognition o one`s position in society.
luggle oers that parkour een constitutes
an ethical dimension` ,luggle 219,. It helped
them restore and engender a aith in the
world. Although their surroundings weren`t
ideal, traceurs reimagined and accepted its
aults. 1hrough this, they reached higher
ground both literally and metaphorically.
During the last hal o the 20th century,
practitioners o parkour interpreted Pari-
sian architecture and public space as means
o negatie social control. 1he parkour
moement has eoled in meaning, but still
holds undamental principles rom its origi-
nal creation. Both an indiidualized and a
public orm o rebellion and meditation or
traceurs, parkour challenges the dominant
ideologies behind the public arena and city
inrastructure. 1raceurs in the 190s iewed
the disciplinary power in Paris as a way to
hierarchize, homogenize, and een normal-
ize the city. Parkour helped them cope by
proiding indiidual liberation rom society`s
controlling and restrictie elements. Now
practiced globally, traceurs liberate them-
seles rom conentional ways o moement
and gain empowerment oer irtually eery
type o struggle in lie.
\orks Cited
Belle, Daid. New Daid Belle Interiew.`
8UEDQ)UHHRZ. 24 Jul. 2009. \eb. 2 No.
2011. http:,,www.urbanreenow.com,
new-daid-belle-interiew
luggle, Sophie. Discourses o Subersion:
1he Lthics and Aesthetics o Capoeira and
Parkour.` 'DQFH5HVHDUFK7KH-RXUQDORI WKH
6RFLHW\IRU'DQFH5HVHDUFK 26.2 ,\inter, 2008,:
204-22. JSTOR. \eb. 24 No. 2011.
Guss, Nathan. Parkour and the Multitude:
Politics o a Dangerous Art.` French
&XOWXUDO6WXGLHV 22.1 ,2011,: 3-85. JSTOR.
\eb. 26 No. 2011.
Lamb, Matthew D. 1racing the Path o
Power 1hrough the lluidity o lreedom:
1he Art o Parkour in Challenging the
Relationship o Architecture and the Body
and Rethinking the Discursie Limits o the
City.` August 2011. \eb. 26 No. 2011.
46
P
eter McShane and Derek Daey are
storytellers who recreate a series o ex-
quisitely iid snapshots drawn rom
deeply personal experiences that simultane-
ously astound and encourage. In Mineeld`
and 1herapy Dog,` these authors gently
nudge readers toward the edge o their
seats and skillully bring to lie moments we
share as historically mindul thinkers. 1heir
narratiesstandasaremindero thecourage,
dedication, and sacrice inested in uphold-
ingtherameworko ournationalcommunity.
McShaneandDaeyarebothmemberso the
Syracuse Veterans \riting Group and indi-
iduallydemonstratedistinctiestylisticquali-
tiesthatmaketheirstorieseocatieandcom-
pelling. Iaing the opportunity to interiew
eachauthor,Ioeramomentaryglimpseinto
thestorytellersbehindthestory.
lew people know the eeling o night. Peter
McShanedoes.McShanewasaGreenBeret,a
membero Speciallorces,whoseredinthat
brancho themilitaryrom1966to1969,dur-
ing the Vietnam \ar. Ie qualied or airborne
inantryaterjumpschool,whichgaehimthe
necessarytrainingtoparachuteouto military
aircrat.McShanedescribestheacto jumping
Writing Back
Peter McShane in Vietnam.
Margaret Spinosa
IN1LR1LX12012|4
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as hanging rom the arms o the almighty.`
Ie says that you are harnessed in so tight,
andenelopingiteelslikeagianthasyouinits
grasp.` During our interiew, I was compelled
toaskhimwhatiteltliketobeontheerge
o jumpingintoaseeminglyendlesscyansea.
\as he rightened \as he hesitant at that
critical moment just beore the all Iis
answer was one I
neer would hae
anticipated. McShane
reeals that since
the planes were not
insulated, there was
pandemonium in-
side the aircrat. 1he
ear-splitting noise o
the engines and i-
brating airrame was
deaening. Ie says
that he would hae
done anything to get
outo theplane,de-
scribing it as going
rom a cacophony
o sounds to utter
silencepeaceul,
serene.`
Iis piece, Mine-
eld,` describes an
actual eent during
McShanes tour o
Vietnam.1herewere
no aerage days`
sering in Vietnam,
he says. As a medic,
McShanetookcareo thewoundedandproid-
edsomeo theonlyproessionalmedicalsupport
totheCambodianmercenariesinhiscamp.lrom
delieringbabiesandpullingteethtoperorming
amputationsandhealingwounds,McShaneacted
asmorethanasoldier.Iewasahealer.1hepar-
ticular team he belonged to was known as the
Mobile Strike lorce. Iis job: to support other
A-teams in regional camps located along en-
emysupplylines.Consequently,McShanespent
aloto timetraelling.Iehadlittledowntime
becausethesiteshewastraellingtowerebeing
bombardedatalltimes.\hilehisteamwasau-
thorizedourmedics,twohadbeenkilledandthe
thirdendedhistourjustaterMcShanearried.
Iewastheonlymediconduty.Iisteammates
did not want to ght
withouthim.
1he situation in
Vietnam required
complete and utter
ocus,` he said. \ou
neer knew i you
would be ambushed,
sniped, or i a child
would roll a grenade
out.` 1o him, Viet-
nam was the experi-
ence o paranoia in
an enironment that
was almost idyllic.`
McShane`s rst-hand
experienceothatpar-
adox was jarring, dur-
ing the height o the
\ar many \esterners
were still acationing
in Vietnam. 1hese
dierging images o
war-induced destruc-
tion is discordant or
me. I cannot imagine
his internal connict
experiencing this dis-
sonance rsthand.
1owards the end o Mineeld,` McShane
writesthatagitsaedhislie.1hisgitcon-
sistedo tworeligiousicons,aBuddhaamulet
and a prayer cloth, gien to him by a senior
Cambodian camp leader as thanks or the
acto couragewhichhenarratesinhisstory.
McShane explained that the prayer cloth was
Peter McShane in uniform.
48
sittinginhisletbreastpocket,oerhisheart,
whenabulletgrazedrightbyit.Ieisnotsu-
perstitious.NoramI.ButIamstillletwon-
dering. A git gien and a git receied. And
inhisstory,thegitMcShanebothgiesand
receiesislieitsel.
Like McShane, Derek Daey also knows
the eeling o night. Ater his inantry train-
ing, Daey attended night school and
was stationed at Cherry Point, a North
Carolina Marine Corps base. Iis dierse
military experience included an air exercise in
Korea or six weeks, a temporary assignment
romhisMarineCorpsunittotheUSAirlorce
headquarters. Daey sered in the \estern
Pacic ,Japan, Philippines, Korea, or six
monthsandwasalsostationedintheMediter-
ranean,includingattheGul o Sidra,orthe
sameamounto time.
Daey knew since he was a child growing
uponStatenIslandthathewouldbeapilot.
Iis ather worked on a merchant ship, and
when he got a job with the N\S Department
o Conseration,theamilyletStatenIsland
and moed to Lewis County, N\. Ie recalled
pickinguphisauntattheairportandlooking
outo thewindowplanessurroundinghim.
Aterpeeringintothecaptainscabin,itstruck
him that this is what he would do someday.
Ie describes it as one o those things you
put on your bucket list.` lor Daey, night is a
dreamattained.
Currently liing in Lewis County, N\,
Daey is the Director o the County Serice
Agency. Daey gets resources and benets
that the eterans o his County rate. During
ourinteriew,Daeyemphasizedtheactthat
eterans hae amilies and the tangible and
urgent need that exists or our serice men
andwomenandtheirdependents.InDaeys
words, they desere money, healthcare, and
to get o public assistance. 1hey desere to
lie with dignity because it gies them pride
in what they do.` Daey is improing his
community by nding resources or eterans
and their amilies. Iis commitment to help-
ing amilies is remarkable, especially in light
o the heartbreak elt within his own amily.
On October 21, 2005, Daeys son, Seamus
MacLean Daey, was killed in a gunght in
Iraq.IewasacorporalintheMarineCorpsand
hadollowedhisathersootstepsinseringour
national community. \ith calm resere, Daey
tells me that war leads to unintentional conse-
quences.` And, in the \riting Program lounge,
setagainstthebeigebackdropwalls,Daeysaid
that i it was people interacting with people, I
think war would go away.`
Daey wrote 1herapy Dog` as a true
to lie telling o loss, coping, and reco-
ery. Ie beliees that soldiers suering rom
Post 1raumatic Stress Disorder ,P1SD, can
be oer-medicated and should engage in
alternate types o therapy, including rehabili-
tation through yoga or pets. Daey says that
Shadow, his black, wide-eyed pooch came
to me when I needed her and her, me.` As
a member o the Syracuse Veterans \riting
Group,DaeyandMcShanebothexplorethe
boundaries o their communitiesthe ties
that bind. And in their communities they nd
something that allows them to reconcile the
pastandamelioratetheuture.Andthatsome-
thingistheirownnarratieoices.

Derek Davey (right) with son, Seamus.

IN1LR1LX12012|49
MINEFIELD
Peter K. McShane
50
C
laymore mines and concertina wire
linedtheperimetero ourcamp.1he
territorybeyondthatwaslitteredwith
oldmines,buriedbythelrenchyearsbeore.
\eclearedwhatwecouldwhenwebuiltour
camp, but there were still letoers. Lery so
oten, someone would wander o the road
andtripononeo them.\edgetthecasual-
tiesatthedispensary.MostwereDOA.
Itwasadayinearlyspring,hotandhumid.
1hesunblazedandsandburnedmyeetasit
creptintotheopenporeso myjungleboots.
1hesweetsmello thesaltairbreezeo the
SouthChinaSeawastingedbytheacridscent
o cooking res rom our mercenary encamp-
ment across the road rom the A-Camp. At
the lrench hotel down the beach, the smell
o its nower garden and kitchen gae way to
realityontheground,therewasnoescape.
Ater a morning spent in the dispensary,
I was on my way back rom the mess hooch
when1ran,ourseniorVietnamesemedic,ran
uptome,outo breathandanxious.
BacSi,theresalittleboyromourcamp
wandering in the mineeld across the road.`
Iowthehelldidthathappen\herewas
his mother`
Idontknow,BacSi.1hechildstrayedo
chasing a cat and ran into the mineeld ater
it.Iisolderbrotherjustranintothedispen-
sary to tell me.`
1ran and I jumped into a Jeep and raced
outo thecompound.Abouttwoklicksdown
theroad,Icouldseeawomanattheedgeo a
eld o sea grass waing her arms, and a our-
year-oldboystandinginapatcho sandabout
ahundredmeterso theroad.Shewasrantic.
1ran, what is the woman saying`
BacSi,sheistellingtheboytocomeback
to the road.`
No...No...No! 1ran, tell her to make him
stay where he is!`
All I could isualize was the boy running
toward us, tripping one o those mines, and
hisbodyatomizedinronto us.\ejumped
out o the Jeep and ran oer to the woman.
Shewasshaking,sobbinguncontrollably.
Araid or my lie, I didnt know what to
do.Icouldleaeandhopethathedidntblow
himsel up, or go and get him. Iesitating a
moment, I took another look at the childs
desperate mother and decided that I had to
goaterhim.
1ran, tell her that Im going to get the
boy.Iaehertellhimtostaywhereheis:Do-
Not-Moe.`
Bac Si, you shouldnt go into the mine-
eld.`
\hatwouldyoudo1ran,waitortheboy
totripamineandwatchhimblowupinour
acesItstoolatetobackoutnow.Ihaeto
do this.`
I rantically tried to remember what I
learnedintrainingclasses.Putyoureetonein
ront o the other in measured steps, touch-
ing the ground rst with the ball o your
IN1LR1LX12012|51
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oot, lowering it to your heel, slowly shit-
ingyourweighttotheballo theotheroot.
Scanthegroundinronto youortripwires
or prongs. Look or things that appear to be
growingouto thegroundthatlookunnatural.
1ran, ask her the boy`s name.`
Bac Si, it is Loi.`
1erried, I slowly took steps toward the child,
praying that he would not become rightened
andrunromme,orworse,towardme.Iewas
onlyahundredmetersaway,butitseemedlike
akilometer.Itookonestepateranother,scan-
ningthegroundorsignso amine.Visionso
chunks o my body noating through space con-
sumed my thoughts,
but prongs sticking up
justameterinronto
mequicklybroughtme
backtoreality.Aslong
asIcanseethewiresor
prongs, I`ll be Okay,` I thought. 1he eld was
beach sand, with alternate windswept mounds
heldtogetherwithseagrass,andalleyso bare
patcheswhereyoucouldseetheminesplainas
day. I stayed o o the mounds where prongs
or trip wires might be buried. I gured that my
chanceswerebetterinthealleyswhereIcould
atleastseesignso theordinance.
It must hae taken me twenty minutes to
reachtheboy.AllIcouldthinkaboutwashim
runningandblowingusbothtobits.Iewas
just standing there, with a mischieous look,
notsurewhyhismotherwassoupset.1hank
God he recognized me rom the dispensary
anddidnttrytorunaway.
Loi...BacSiwanttotakeyoutoyourmoth-
er. Stay there,` I said in a calm oice, while my
bodyshookundermytigeratigues.1henhe
playullyturnedawaytogoadmeintoachase,
andbeganrunningtowardthesea,aboutthree
hundredmetersaway.IknewIonlyhadone
chancetograbhim,soIlungedandsnagged
the sleee o his shirt. Ie ell backward
towardme.Ilostmyootingandlandedinthe
sandontopo him.loraewsecondsthere
wassilence.1henheburstintogiggles.
Bac Si...more, more!`
Ilaytheretrembling,clutchingthelittleboy
in my arms and ghting back the tears. Scan-
ningtheground,Isawatripwirestickingout
o thesandjustanarmslengthawayromus.
I hugged the boy as hard as I could, and as I
did, he began laughing, tears o pleasure run-
ningdownhisace.Mybodywaswrackedwith
the pain o ear, but his joy soothed me. Get
control o yoursel, I thought. \ou still hae
to make it back to the road. I told Loi that
we would play again once we got back to the
road. \ith the boy in
my arms, I started to
backtrack, desperately
trying to concentrate
onwhatIhadtodo.
I dont remember
muchaboutthetripback.Somehowwemade
it back and I deliered the little boy into his
mothersarms.Iwasexhaustedandrelieed.
1
hat aternoon, 1ran, Loan, our nurse,
andItookaJeepacrosstheroadtothe
encampment to hold a MLDCAP, or
sick call. \e did this once a week when I was
in camp. Sometimes the Cambodes were too
sick to come to the dispensary. Other times,
they didnt want to bother us, mostly out o
ignorance. Most o them had neer receied
a doctors check-up beore signing on as our
mercenaries.Itwaseasierorthemi wewent
there,sorto likemakinghousecalls.\edwalk
the aisles o their hooches, all joined together
inacommonhallway,andlookinontheirlies.
1his day was dierent. \hen our Jeep ap-
proached the entryway to the compound, we
wereswarmedbyhundredso people.
Bac Si...Bac Si...Bac Si!`
1he crowd was yelling at us. I was con-
cernedoroursaety.1heydidntseemangry,
buttheywereagitatedorsomereason.
Hesitating a moment, I took
another look at the childs
desperate mother, and decided
that I had to go after him.
52
\RI11LN\I1I1ILS\RACUSLVL1LRANS\RI1INGGROUP
\hats going on
1ran,whataretheysay-
ing`
BacSi,theyreprais-
ing you, theyre thank-
ing you or saing that
little boy.`
lrom the back o the
crowd came Noh, a
Cambodian elder and
the sel-appointed may-
or o the encampment.
Iewalkeduptomyside
o theJeepandgrabbed
myarm.
BacSi,wearehappy
that you saed Loi,` he
said in broken Lnglish.
\ou aced great danger to sae him and we
are happy or you.`
Ididntknowwhattosay.\omenandmen
swarmed the Jeep, touching me and bow-
ing. Noh reached into his jacket pocket and
pulled out a olded white cloth and a small
gold and iory Buddha amulet on a chain.
Almost eery one o our mercenaries had
one o these icons hanging around his neck.
Superstitiousornot,theyeltsaeintheBud-
dhas presence. Ie opened the white cloth to
reealaprayercloth,ahal metersquaremade
out o linen. It was hand-printed with an in-
tricatearrayo iconsandprayersinKhmer.I
rememberoneo ourmercenariesshowingme
onethathecarried.
BacSi,youcarrythisprayerclothandthe
Buddha with you. It protect you rom harm.`
I thought about how the Cambodes put
those amulets in their mouths during reghts,
andwonderedi therewasanythingtoit.
\
hen 1op Sergeant Brown ound
outaboutmyorayintothemine-
eld, he was liid.
McShane,whattheuckwereyouthinking,
going out into a mineeld to rescue a gook.`
1op, I just did my job.`
McShane,yourjobistoprotecttheAmer-
icans, not risk your lie saing some Cambo-
dian kid.`
But theyre our mercenaries, theyre
amily. I did what I thought was right.`
1hey arent your amily, theyre not our
amily.\ouriskedyourlieneedlessly.Itshard
enough staying alie on our operations. \ou
dont need to risk it here in camp. Dont go
near the mineeld again.`
Okay 1op.`
1hatwasntthelasttimeIgotchewedout
ordoingwhatIthoughtwastherightthing.
Lerybody has his or her own denition. I
supposethat1opwasright.Shit,hehadsur-
ied two tours and was still alie to dress
medown.
Ididntgiemuchthoughttothepresenta-
tion ceremony that aternoon, but I did put
thatBuddhaamuletaroundmyneckandthe
prayerclothinmyletbreastpocket.Imnot
superstitious,butIthoughtitwouldhelpme
bond with our mercenaries. I had no inkling
thatthoseiconsmightsaemylie.

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IN1LR1LX12012| 53
GoonlinetoiewMcShanereadinganotherpiece,
\hy I \rite`: http:,,wrt-intertext.syr.edu,
Therapy Dog
Derek Davey
I
rst saw her when I deliered a package
at the house o a colleague o my wie.
She was a small coarse-haired dog with
oer-sized canine teeth, staring at me. Ier sim-
ian eyes locked on to me beore I knew she was
there, perched on a snow bank next to the drie-
way. I stopped my truck, glanced to my side, and
there she was, waiting or my next moe with her
spooky great-ape eyes burning at me.
I neer liked dogs. I hae a large ugly scar
across my ankle that I receied rom three big
nasty mutts that cornered me in a neighbor`s
house when I was e-years old. 1raumatized,
I clung to cats in my youth, and as I grew older,
I went out o my way to pet almost any cat.
I knew I had to get out o my truck. I only
hoped that the black beast would just sni me
and moe on. I opened my door just a crack
and she leaped. Uh oh` I thought. But to
my surprise, the dog approached me ast and
nopped on her back at my eet. Scratch my
belly,` her now riendly eyes said. I did scratch
her and she ollowed me to the house door
and soon trotted in, out o sight.
1hat dog stayed in my thoughts or weeks.
Ier eyes had pierced mine and seemingly
searched my soul. Remember me,` I heard her
say. \eeks later ater my wie had expressed my
amazement o this dog to her riend, I learned
that the woman and her our children needed to
moe to a smaller place and her youngest had
deeloped allergies to animals. In act, she had
taken the dog to the Iumane Society the day
beore. I knew o this change, but the pound
was closed. I learned later that this would be the
second time in the dog`s lie that she would be
Davey with Shadow.
54
Layout by Annie Licata.
To the Merrick! by Flickr
user overgraeme,
CC BY 2.0;
Davey with Shadow,
courtesy of Derek Davey.
WRITTEN WITH THE SYRACUSE VETERANS WRITING GROUP
rescued rom the pound.
I texted my daughters and asked or their
opinions. Should I get a dog` I asked
them. 1hey all, and independently, responded
\LS` in capital letters, the text equialent o
a shout. 1hey knew something o my needs.
I went to the woman`s house that ery
eening to etch the dog, still not knowing
her name or een her gender. 1he babysitter
was expecting me and rapidly gae me all the
accoutrements that ollow the git o a dog:
metal bowls, hal a bag o Puppy Chow, a ew
chew toys, and een a cage.
Iere take it all,` she said. I gathered she
wasn`t a an o dogs. Come on Shadow, out
o the house,` she said.
Shadow is her name` I said. I didn`t
know.`
Shadow is black. She ollows me whereer I
go. She rarely barks and only at a squirrel that
she has cornered up a tree without escape. She
wasn`t een a year old when she came to lie with
me. Iouse training took some time, rustrating
others in my amily, but not me. I changed when
Shadow came. I spoke to her long and oten
about whateer was happening. I neer raised
my oice, unless she neared danger: the road or a
moing car. She learned ast.
I had been told, and I had read mysel, that
physical training is the best way to reliee post-
trauma and grie. Natural endorphins nowing
through your body are the best medicine.
Shadow and I leae the house eeryday, ery
early, 5 a.m. sometimes, and walk to the park.
I let her o her leash ater I hae scanned the
area to be sure no other two or our-legged
walkers are nearby. I do my steady walk and
daydream o better things. \alking and iew-
ing trees, open spaces, cornelds, cows behind
their ences and deer in the hills in the distance
ease my soul, and I can orget the troubles
or awhile.
Shadow runs and runs. She is a natural
sprinter and rodent chaser. A ew whistles
guide her back my way when her hunting
leads her too ar. I make my circuit and ask
Shadow i she has pooped i I haen`t seen
her remember to do so. \e return home, and
I leae or work, coming home at lunch or
another quick romp. Later in the day she re-
ceies extended belly and jowl rubbing and
goes on more squirrel chasing. I will talk to
her at length about nothing at all really. I
ignore the teasing that my daughters and wie
gie me or loing a dog.
Shadow will sleep on the noor at my side
whereer my bed may be. I I lie on the noor
or on the grass, I hae been known to do the
cuddle that she initiates. She will yawn loudly
in the morning and anxiously pushes me to
once again do the morning walk.
Just lately, now teen months since she
came to lie with me, her character has
changed. Shadow still stays at my side or
nearby, but she no longer suers miniature
lapdogs gladly. Beore, she would just ignore
any pesky dog that came her way. She will
attack any lap-rat that dares to growl or snip
at her. I she wishes to remain outside, or i
she is on a patient squirrel-watch when I call,
Shadow will gie me the slow head turn and
the squinty eyed look that says, Not now.
Can`t you see I`m busy`
I too hae changed. I no longer need to
know where Shadow is at all times. Dogs usu-
ally lie but one sixth o human lie spans. My
dog came to me when I needed her and her,
me. She has shown me that we can moe on
rom the troubles o the past and lie a regu-
lar` lie again. I ear the day when she dies, or
chances are that I will outlie her. My greatest
ear now is that I will moe on so ar that I
don`t need the daily walk. 1hat will probably
neer happen. 1herapy dog` will nuzzle me
each morning or as long as she is capable.
And I will continue to eign other things I
need to do rst until she gies me the look.`
1hen o we go to the park once again.
IN1LR1LX1 2012 | 55 Go online to view Davey reading another piece,
Exhaust: http://wrt-intertext.syr.edu/
Student Writers in the Academy
Elizabeth Vogt
Why Should I Cite Them?

56
P
lagiarism is not a crime that can be
committed by students alone. A-
ter reading 1yAnna Ierringtons
Intellectual Property on Campus: Students Rights
and ResponsibilitiesandAmyRobillardsYoung
ScholarsAectingComposition:AChallenge
to Disciplinary Citation Practices, I hae
come to realize that students are ulner-
able to misuse or een thet o their intel-
lectual property when they create work in
an academic setting. Due to the simple act
that they are students producing work or
academic purposes, they are in danger o
beingtakenadantageo bytheall-power-
ul academic institution as well as the pro-
essorsorwhomtheyareproducingwork.
Iwillbeginwiththeissuethattroublesme
the most: students not being properly cited
or their work or not haing their work at-
tributedtothem.Asastudentwhoproduces
atleasttwomajorworkso writingperweek,
I oten wonder where my writing will go a-
ter I submit it. A proessor could block my
nameoutandpassmypaperaroundhisnext
class as an example. Or a proessor might
surreptitiously use an idea I presented as his
or her own in his or her scholarly writing.
Although Syracuse Uniersity does hae its
own Iuman Research Protection Program
in conjunction with the Institutional Re-
iew Board ,IRB,, that does not ensure a
studentsworkcannotbemisappropriated.
It is dicult or the student-and een the
uniersity-to discoer this injustice i they are
not actiely looking or it. Robillard eloquently
addressestheneedtorecognizestudentsasau-
thorsintheacademy.Inheressay,shewriteshow
aneditoro Young Scholars in Writing belieesthat
student writing should be read as scholarship
that contributes to the on-going ormation o
thisdisciplinarycommunity,25,.\iththisidea
inmind,Robillardpointsoutthatstudentwriting
isseenasacontributiontotheworko com-
position rather than as a pedagogical eort
,25,.1hisshitinthinkingo studentwriters
as authors raises important questions o who
claims authorship in academia. I a student
submits his or her work to a journal such as
Young Scholars, will it be read as a contribution
to scholarship 1hats the aim o the journal.
I myworkwereeertobepublished,Iwould
consider mysel an author because work pro-
ducedbymehadgottenintoprintwhetheror
notIhadcontributedtoscholarship.
1oooten,howeer,studentsarenotgien
such power. In Intellectual Property on Campus:
Students Rights and Responsibilities, Ierrington
describes the powerlessness students some-
times eel. In discussing students intellectual
property rights, Ierrington asserts that stu-
dents, as creators, can hold a weak position
against instructors or institutions who might
use their work without permission or make
claims against the work they create within
their scholarly institutions ,1,. 1his relates
backtomyownearo myproessorsblack-
ingoutmynameononeo myessaysanddis-
tributingittotheirstudents.\hileIerrington
does beliee that students should be seen as
creatorsratherthancontributors,shealso
realizes that they are incredibly ulnerable to
an entity more powerul than they are, and
that a gurehead such as a proessor can take
adantage o their work. Moreoer, the act
that students produce work in an academic
setting makes it dicult to discern whether
ornottheycanclaimtrueownershipo their
creatiework.
\hile I do understand the complicated
nature o the matter, I do not eel that just
because work might hae been produced
or a class assignment or other academic
endeaor, I do not hae the right to claim
ownership o it. As Ierrington declares,
under U.S. law, authorship gies students
rights to control their work, notwithstand-
ing that it is created within an educational
context,1,.1hisshouldbeenoughreason
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IN1LR1LX12012|5
or students to hae ull authority oer the
use o their work, right \rong. Consider-
ing the act that the student is still working
within an academic institution, determin-
ing student rights to creatie products can
be complex and cannot be decided without
an understanding o the context in which
they create work ,Ierrington 1,. I, or
example, a student is working on a research
projectorhisorheruniersityandwritesan
essayaboutit,theuniersityhastherightto
takeownershipo thestudentswork.\hile
this notion is not included in the student
Academic Integrity Policy, it is perectly
clear in Syracuses laculty Manual discuss-
ing intellectual property
with ties to the unier-
sity. According to Section
3.0 o the manual, when
research or creation o
intellectual property by
aculty hae been sup-
ported by the Uniersity
and hae resulted in the
creation o properties that hae economic
interest and alue, Syracuse Uniersity shall
haetitleto,orhaeaairandequitablein-
come interest proportional to the Unier-
sitys inestment in, those properties. I a
claimsuchasthisappliestoaculty,whoare
presumedtohaeadecentamounto power
oertheirwork,couldnotthisclausepossi-
blyposeadangertostudentswhohaeeen
lesspoweroertheirworkthanacultyOne
would hope, howeer, that the uniersity
would maintain a sense o integrity and at
leastcreditthatstudentastheauthoro the
essayandcuratoro theresearch.
\hat is een more distressing is that the
studentsproessorcouldtakeanessaywrit-
tenbyastudentanduseaportiono itorall
o itinhisorherownscholarlyworkwith-
out properly attributing authorship to the
student. As preiously mentioned, despite
the protections presented by the IRB and
the uniersity, the student may neer know
o theproessorsexploitation.\hatiseen
more rightening is the act that the proes-
sorswrongdoingmayneereenbeexposed
i heorsheiscoertenoughtohideit,which
eenurtherpermeatesthestudentsauthor-
ity oer something that is essentially his or
her own property. \hile this behaior is
highly unethical, the belie that students do
not hae ull ownership o their work, i it
was created or academic purposes, almost
sets students up to be taken adantage o.
Robillard accurately claims that when
|scholars|citeoneanotherbutleaestudents
nameless or pseudony-
mous, |they| perpetu-
ate an author,student
binary ,25,. As long
as scholars continue to
improperly cite student
work they use, how will
students eer be recog-
nized as true authors I
would like to think that my writing will not
be considered something that can be used
without permission, or at least ull attribu-
tion,justbecauseIamastudent.
1omakemattersworse,itseemsasi there
has been a recent shit in the way scholars
iewstudentwriting.AccordingtoRobillard,
this shit disregards composition scholars
earlier suggestions that|scholars| read the
work o beginning writers as |they| might
read any other authors texts, or now they
arereadastheemergingorailedworko
outsiders,25,. Clearly i scholars eel stu-
dentworkisjustemergingoreenailed
work,itisperceiedaswritingthatissimply
notonparwithscholarlywork.Asastudent
writer, I am incredibly oended by this. 1o
be considered an outsider is bad enough,
butailedwritingNowthatissomething
bywhichIamoutraged.\es,itistruethatI
I would like to think that
my writing will not be
considered something
that can be used without
permission, or at least
full attribution, just
because I am a student.
58 \RI11LNlOR\R1424
amastudent,andthusIamstilllearningand
perecting the art o writing, but that does
notgieanyscholartherighttousemywork
withoutpropercitation.
\hile my opinion o the extent o stu-
dents rights to their work produced in an
academic institution under academic instruc-
torsmayseemstrong,Idonotbelieeitisout
o line. Reading the passages I hae quoted
inthisessayhasenragedmetoapointwhere
I am hesitant eer to submit an essay again.
Sure, it may be a antastic opportunity to be
asked by a proessor whether he or she may
eature my work within his or her scholarly
writing. Sure, I would loe to be considered
a published writer as an undergraduate. 1he
acto thematteris,though,thati mywork
ispublishedasaparto myproessorsschol-
arlywork,Iwanttobeconsideredapublished
author, not simply a published writer. I want
to know that I will be properly credited or
mywriting,nomatterhowlittleo ithasbeen
used, and that I will still hold ull authority
oermyownwriting,regardlesso whereitis
published.1heactthatsomescholarsbeliee
students do not desere citation and are not
een worthy o being considered authors
o theirownworksimplybecauseitwaspro-
duced or academic purposes is absolutely
sickeningtome.
I Iweretowriteanessayandusequotes
without proper citation, I would undoubt-
edlybeseerelypunishedorplagiarism.I a
proessor quoted rom an essay I wrote and
did not properly attribute authorship o it
tomeorcitemeasasource,howeer,heor
shecouldgetawaywithitmuchmoreeasily.
As a student, I eel powerless. I eel ulner-
able. Most o all, I despise the act that stu-
dents are actiely being taken adantage o
this way. It is unair and unethical. My hope
is that scholars and institutions alike will put
theirprideasideandrealizethatstudentsare
writersjustastheyare.\emaynothaeper-
ectedourcratyet,butwearetrying.\emay
neer reach perection, but then again, does
anywriter
\orksCited
Ierrington,1yAnnaK.Intellectual Property
on Campus: Students Rights and
Responsibilities. Carbondale:Southern
IllinoisUP,2010.Print.
Robillard,AmyL.\oungScholarsAecting
Composition:AChallengetoDisciplinary
Citation.College English68.3:,2006,:
253-0.Print.
\oungScholarsin\riting:Undergraduate
Researchin\ritingandRhetoric.Uo
Missouri-KansasCity.http:,,cas.
umkc.edu,english,publications,young
scholarsinwriting,index3.html

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IN1LR1LX12012|59
EDITORIAL TEAM
MATT KOVAC is a junior Writing
& Rhetoric and Newspaper
Journalism major. A staff writer
for the Daily Orange, he enjoys
movies, golf, baseball, and
reading. He resides in Castle
Creek, NY, where he plans to work
at his local newspaper The Press
& Sun-Bulletin while aspiring to
EHFRPHDOPFULWLF
AMANDA ROCKWELL is a junior
Writing major and an Environment
and Society minor. She is
homegrown from Syracuse. In her
free time she enjoys sailing Lake
Ontario, hiking in the Adirondack
Mountains and reading anywhere
VKHFDQ$IWHUVKHQLVKHVVFKRRO
Amanda dreams of being a
published author of childrens
books.
HAYLEY KANG is a dual
Writing and English Textual Studies
major with a minor in Public
Communications. Currently in her
third year, she is from Mechanicsburg,
Pennsylvania and counts her Nook
as one of her prized possessions.
Having already edited countless
essays, Hayley hopes one day to
be a book editor.
60
MARGARET SPINOSA is a senior
Biochemistry, Religion, and Writing
major in the Rene Crown Honors
3URJUDP6KHLVDIRRGLHOP
fanatic, and avid reader. She has
an unusually high-blood caffeine
content. When not working on her
two Capstone theses, she enjoys
running. Margaret will be attending
medical school after graduation.
ANNIE LICATA, a Magazine
Journalism & Writing and Rhetoric
major, has a passion for music and
writing. When shes not jamming
to her vinyl record collection or
watching The Sopranos, shes out
walking her dogs. Annies favorite
artists are Paul McCartney and Bob
Marley.
GEORGE EDINGER is a
sophomore majoring in Writing and
Television, Radio, Film from Jersey.
If he is not busy editing video, he is
searching for new music. George
spends much of his time writing
screenplays which he hopes to one
day produce.
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IN1LR1LX12012|61
EDITORIAL TEAM
GENEVIEVE ANITA THOMAS
is a Writing and Rhetorical Studies
major at Syracuse University.
She loves reading,writing,
drumming, and gaming. She
currently works as a freelance
writer as well as teaching drumming
at a local Korean school. She has
also worked extensively with
animal rehabilitation.
FLASH STEINBEISER, is a senior
Communications and Rhetorical
Studies & Writing and Rhetoric
dual. Flash is the editor-in-chief
of JERK magazine, Syracuse
Universitys premiere alternative
voice publication. A geek in every
sense of the word, Flash knows
more about Spider-Man and
the Muppets than the average
person should.
AMY LI is a junior Writing and
French dual major. She is from East
Lyme, Connecticut and spends the
majority of her free time with her
nose buried in a book or glued to
her computer screen. Amy interned
with a publishing company while
studying abroad in France and
hopes to be an editor one day.
62
VICTORIA WHITE is a junior
English major as well as a Writing
minor and Dance minor. She is
from Long Island and loves pop
punk music and Disney movies.
Her favorite princess is Ariel for her
HUFHDPELWLRQDQGSDVVLRQDWH
personality. She is the undergraduate
representative for Syracuses
English department, and she
hopes to work as an under-
graduate faculty member
at a university
BROOKE LEONE is a junior
Writing and Religion major. She is
from Rushville, NY, and loves her
two bulldogs, Peanut and
Nugget. She enjoys running,
KLNLQJDQGDOOWKLQJVWQHVV
Brooke writes for the JERK blog
and would love to be an editor
someday. Youll constantly see her
with a book in her hand.
OLIVIA TORMENTA is a junior
majoring in Writing and Rhetoric
and minoring in Management and
Psychology. While studying at
Syracuse, she has greatly honed
her skills as a writer and editor and
never lets the misuse of their, there,
or theyre pass her by. Olivia also
holds the position of Event
Chairman for her sorority, Kappa
Kappa Gamma.
IN1LR1LX12012|63
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INTERTEXT 2012