Anger

by | Oct 5, 2018 | Activism, disability, Feminism, grief, Identity, latinx, LGBTQIA+, Racism, Representation, Resist, sexism, Voices, writer's life

Open October 5-19, 2018

“We are constantly being told not to be angry. As a black woman especially, I hear it from all corners. To be angry is to give in to stereotypes of the shrill feminist, the mad black woman. To be angry is to trade intellect for emotion. To be angry is to be irrational and violent. To be angry is to be like them. To be angry is to lose. But none of that is true. I am angry because I love. I am angry because what I love is being harmed. I know why my people matter, why the environment matters, why human rights matter, why justice matters. And I know that this all deserves love. I know that it deserves protection. And I know who is fighting to deny it what it deserves. I know that when that which we love is being harmed — to not be angry would be unconscionable. […]

What if we took that anger beyond the internet? What if we took it into the streets more than once every two years? Into our boycotts? Into our strikes? Into the voting booth? What if we took that anger to our city council meetings? What if we took it to their campaign events and press conferences? What if we took it to our school boards and our workplaces? What if we took all this anger born of righteous love and aimed it?”

—Ijeoma Olou, “We women can be anything. But can we be angry?” Medium.com

We are seeking essays and poetry on the theme of ANGER for Voices, Brain Mill Press’s digital magazine platform.

Don’t pull punches.

Essay pitches will be reviewed and responded to within 24 hours by Brain Mill Press staff.

This call is for femme writers, writers of color, LGBTQIA+ writers, First Nations writers, and disabled writers.

If your pitch is selected, you will be given a mutually-agreed period of time to write your essay. You will receive editorial feedback on your submitted piece, a negotiable contract granting Brain Mill Press the limited right to reproduce your piece on Voices, and payment at industry-standard rates upon publication. You will retain all other rights to your work.

Contact Brain Mill Press at inquiries@brainmillpress.com with questions.

Submit Your Pitch

top photo by Gabriel Matula on Unsplash

“The Poet X” Is a Testament to Self-Expression

by | Sep 24, 2018 | Feminism, Identity, latinx, Poetry, Racism, Reading, Representation, sexism, The Afro YA

“The Poet X” Is a Testament to Self-Expression

As a teenager and budding poet, the very first verse novel I can recall reading is Bronx Masquerade by Nikki Grimes.

Told from the point of view of many diverse high school students in a slam poetry style, it wasn’t hard for me to enjoy. However, the brief glimpses into the characters’ personal lives weren’t enough for me to completely love the book. After finishing Elizabeth Acevedo’s The Poet X, I feel like it filled the gaps that Bronx Masquerade had.

The Poet X tells the story of Xiomara, an Afro-Latina teen who feels suffocated by her mother’s strict religious parenting and frustrated by the way the world perceives her as a brown girl with burgeoning sexuality. For a while, she writes down her truest thoughts in secret, convinced that no one will want to hear them. After being severely punished for daring to explore her sexuality and attraction to her male classmate Aman, she decides to join her school’s slam poetry club and finds the courage to express herself.

For a while, she writes down her truest thoughts in secret, convinced that no one will want to hear them.

One of the first things about the book I noticed was Xiomara’s poetic voice. Even prior to joining the poetry club, it is very distinctive, powerful, and vivid. In the early pages of the book, there is a page called “Names” in which Xiomara explains the origins of her name and the impact of it, evoking the image of a defiant warrior. Her personality is summed up in the following lines: “My parents probably wanted a girl who would sit / in the pews / wearing pretty floral and a soft smile. / They got combat boots and a mouth silent / until it’s sharp as an island machete.”

Although Xiomara initially keeps her thoughts secret, her struggle and desire to speak and act on them is always apparent. This is especially telling in the homework assignments that she turns in for her English class. While the first drafts of those assignments are honest, the final drafts are toned down to convey what Xiomara thinks her teacher, Ms. Galiano, wants to hear. Later, the fact that Ms. Galiano truly cares for Xiomara’s deepest thoughts becomes a key factor in Xiomara’s decision to join the poetry club.

Although Xiomara initially keeps her thoughts secret, her struggle and desire to speak and act on them is always apparent.

Ms. Galiano’s support of Xiomara is one of the most touching aspects of the book. She is patient enough to let Xiomara join the poetry club when she is ready and a caring enough teacher to gently nudge Xiomara toward slam poetry by introducing it in one of her classes. Later, she even becomes one of Xiomara’s shoulders to cry on after a tumultuous confrontation with her mother. Ms. Galiano reminds me of a Black high school literature teacher I had who encouraged my writing and helped me during a difficult time.

Others in Xiomara’s life include Aman, a young man with good intentions that almost always come through. There is Xavier, Xiomara’s genius twin, who tries his best to support Xiomara despite experiencing a very different sexual awakening from hers. But of the entire cast of characters, the character who most resonated with me after Ms. Galiano and Xiomara was Xiomara’s mother.

Xiomara’s mother is both problematic and sympathetic. She wants the best for her daughter but lacks the ability to listen to her daughter without using religion to criticize her. Her religion is a source of strength, because it helped her through the difficult birth of the twins, so she tries to impose it on them to help them be strong too.

Feeling stifled by her mother, her religion, and her peers, Xiomara uses the written word to say what she can’t say aloud.

Feeling stifled by her mother, her religion, and her peers, Xiomara uses the written word to say what she can’t say aloud. Most notably, she uses her words to express her sexual awakening and how women are held to different standards than men in religion and real life. The most surprising poem in the book involves her masturbating, something I rarely read about in YA books involving women of color. The ecstasy and stigma surrounding masturbation is examined, and it is refreshingly realistic to see in a book for teens.

Xiomara discovers slam poetry and starts to become braver and more honest about her feelings.

Ultimately, I believe Xiomara and her story resonated with me so much because she reflects a part of the teen poet I was and the adult poet I am becoming now. My personal favorite pages are when Xiomara discovers slam poetry and starts to become braver and more honest about her feelings. I understand the joy and struggle Xiomara experiences as a poet because I’ve experienced them many times myself. The Poet X is a testament to finding and expressing your personal voice.

The Afro YA promotes black young adult authors and YA books with black characters, especially those that influence Pennington, an aspiring YA author who believes that black YA readers need diverse books, creators, and stories so that they don’t have to search for their experiences like she did.

Latonya Pennington is a poet and freelance pop culture critic. Their freelance work can also be found at PRIDE, Wear Your Voice magazine, and Black Sci-fi. As a poet, they have been published in Fiyah Lit magazine, Scribes of Nyota, and Argot magazine among others.

Top photo by Diego Rosa on Unsplash

 

The Exene Chronicles Is a Beautiful, Brutal Glimpse into 80s Punk Culture

by | Sep 24, 2018 | childhood, history, Identity, Music, Poetry, Popular Culture, Racism, Reading, Representation, The Afro YA

"The Exene Chronicles" Is a Beautiful, Brutal Glimpse into 80s Punk Culture

When I initially read the synopsis of Camille A. Collins’s book, The Exene Chronicles, part of me expected a novel written as a series of letters and poems.

Part of me expected an angsty, maybe slightly melodramatic book about a young Black female punk rock fan writing letters and poems to the lead singer of her favorite band. Instead, I got something more genuine and relatable.

At the center of The Exene Chronicles is Lia, a fourteen year old Black punk fan in the 1980’s living in Coronado, a San Diego suburb. As one of the few Black kids in the area and at school, she befriends Ryan, a white girl her age acting rebellious and grown up to cope with unwanted sexual advances for her pubescent body. When Ryan disappears, Lia uses the punk rock singer Exene Cervenka as a guide to cope with what happened, what led to Ryan’s disappearance, and Lia’s falling out with Ryan.

One notable aspect of the book is the depiction of the joy and tumult that Lia deals with as a Black punk fan. On the one hand, seeing Lia become enraptured with Exene and punk rock through listening to CDs and viewing the 1981 punk rock documentary The Decline of Western Civilization is enjoyable and relatable. During these moments, Lia reminded me of my teenaged self in the early 00’s discovering alternative rock bands Linkin Park and Evanescence through CDs and YouTube.

Although we lived in different decades and listened to different rock subgenres, I really related to Lia’s feeling of alienation and frustration and how punk rock became the catalyst for her to express herself and feel better about her life. Some particularly memorable thoughts Lia (and Ryan) have about Exene is expressed in the following: “And as much as they admired Exene, watching it all unfold bolstered their perception of themselves also, and made them, for a moment, feel fearless — of every place they’d been and wherever it was they were going.”

On the other hand, Lia also experiences racism, not just in the punk rock scene but also in her daily life. Some of the racism is overt, with Lia being called the “n-word” by white people during certain interactions. As a Black reader, I did find these scenes stinging me a bit, especially during one particularly harrowing scene involving Lia encountering Nazi skinhead youth. Other times, the racism is more subtle, Ryan making race “jokes” and Ryan’s mother thinking “Lia should’ve been the one abducted because Black people are used to suffering.”

Skillfully intertwined with racism is a critique of America’s glamorous white middle class standards, toxic masculinity, and sexual assault and harassment. These issues are depicted not only through Ryan and Lia, but also through secondary characters such as Ryan’s younger brother Jeff and the predatory young half-Mexican man, Neil. The book’s point of view alternates between the main characters and the secondary characters, providing a multi-faceted look at some of the ugliest aspects of the American ideal.

Despite the seriousness of the book, Collins manages to add some beauty in the story with lyrical turns of phrase. This writing style was especially notable when reading from Lia’s point of view, displaying her dreamy side. Notable examples of this include, “Many of the songs began in a flurry, the gates open on a racetrack and the horses fly! Played fast and ending abruptly with the slam of a door that gives finality to an argument, the notes standing on tiptoe.”

All in all, this book is a beautiful, brutal glimpse of 80’s punk culture. Lia is a young, alienated Black female punk fan who must navigate a sea of whiteness and racism to define herself on her own terms. Through the highs and lows of punk rock music, Lia’s story of eventual liberation from confining standards inspires all.

The Afro YA promotes black young adult authors and YA books with black characters, especially those that influence Pennington, an aspiring YA author who believes that black YA readers need diverse books, creators, and stories so that they don’t have to search for their experiences like she did.

Latonya Pennington is a poet and freelance pop culture critic. Their freelance work can also be found at PRIDE, Wear Your Voice magazine, and Black Sci-fi. As a poet, they have been published in Fiyah Lit magazine, Scribes of Nyota, and Argot magazine among others.

top photo by nappy on Pexels

 

“Miles Morales: Spider-Man” Is a Down to Earth Read

by | Sep 24, 2018 | Book Review, Identity, latinx, Poetry, Popular Culture, Reading, Representation, The Afro YA

“Miles Morales: Spider-Man” Is a Down to Earth Read

Spider-Man is both a title and a character that has morphed and evolved over time.

Although it began as the story of Peter Parker, Spider-Man has since become a mantle taken up by people such as Korean American Cindy Moon and Afro-Latino Miles Morales. At the time of this writing, Miles Morales’ story has been gaining prominence through not only comic books but also the animated film Into The Spider-Verse. Adding to that fame is Jason Reynolds’ 2017 young adult/children’s novel Miles Morales: Spider-Man.

Set in the lively city of Brooklyn, New York, this book examines Miles Morales experiencing a sort of identity crisis. His superpowers are on the fritz and causing him so much trouble at home and school that he is considering hanging up the suit for good. However, Miles soon finds a problem that is affecting both his superhero and civilian lives. Now, he must learn to bridge his past and present as a superhero and teenager in order to defeat an enemy that is all too close to home.

He must learn to bridge his past and present as a superhero and teenager in order to defeat an enemy that is all too close to home.

One of the most palpable aspects of this book is how Miles interacts with the city and neighborhood around him. A really fun scene involves Miles and his best friend Ganke on the subway with showtime boys, young break dancers that appear and dance spontaneously for cash tips. Another lively scene involves Miles and his father Jefferson witnessing some playful banter between customers and the barber at a barbershop. These scenes brings Miles’ neighborhood to life in a way that lets the reader see and feel Brooklyn even if they have never been there.

Besides Miles’ interactions with his neighborhood, his interactions with his friends and family are delightful. In fact, the most entertaining interactions involve Ganke, Miles’ crush Alicia, and Miles’ parents. Miles’ parents have a strict yet loving dynamic with their son, while Ganke is both comedic relief and buoyant support for Miles. Finally, Miles’ interactions with Alicia embody both the clumsiness of teenage crushes as well as a complicated, socially aware drive.

These scenes brings Miles’ neighborhood to life in a way that lets the reader see and feel Brooklyn even if they have never been there.

Enhancing Miles’ interactions with his family and friends are introspective sijo poems that Miles, Alicia, and Ganke learn to write for class. A Korean form of poetry involving three lines between fourteen and sixteen syllables, the sijos written by the characters allow them to express feelings they have a hard time conveying aloud. A sijo poem that shows a more vulnerable side to Miles goes, “I hate my father’s face when he tells me my block is a burden / like my job is to carry a family I didn’t create / like my life is for fixing something I didn’t break.”

Balancing out Miles’ friends and family is the chilling super-villain that Miles faces. Without giving too much away, the villain is a cleverly crafted character that is more than just some kooky super-powered bad guy. The villain is very much rooted in the real world, something that Miles can’t just punch away. Watching Miles slowly figure out the villain’s motives and connect the dots about their plot is gripping, with the final reveal of the villain’s identity shocking the reader and asking them to critique their own lives.

The villain is very much rooted in the real world, something that Miles can’t just punch away.

A final aspect of the book worth commenting on is how self-contained this story is. Even if you have never read a Miles Morales Spider-Man comic book or seen Into the Spider-Verse, you can pick up this book and read it without ever feeling lost or confused. Miles’ superpowers and superhero backstory is casually shown in a way that feels natural rather than an information dump. Some say that comic books are a stepping stone to novels, but this novel is a good gateway to comic books.

Overall, Miles Morales: Spider-Man is a down to earth, thoughtful book that combines the best of superheroics and teenage antics. Miles Morales is both a superhero to himself and a superhero to his loved ones. As he faces a true-to-life villain and learns to balance being a teenager with being a superhero, readers just might discover their own inner super powers too.

The Afro YA promotes black young adult authors and YA books with black characters, especially those that influence Pennington, an aspiring YA author who believes that black YA readers need diverse books, creators, and stories so that they don’t have to search for their experiences like she did.

Latonya Pennington is a poet and freelance pop culture critic. Their freelance work can also be found at PRIDE, Wear Your Voice magazine, and Black Sci-fi. As a poet, they have been published in Fiyah Lit magazine, Scribes of Nyota, and Argot magazine among others.

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“Darius and Twig” Is an Honest, Contemplative Story about Living Your Dream

by | Sep 24, 2018 | Book Review, Identity, Racism, Reading, Representation, The Afro YA

"Darius and Twig" Is an Honest, Contemplative Story about Living Your Dream

In Harlem, New York, Black writer Darius and Dominican runner Twig are best friends trying to become successful.

Yet bullies, family problems, and other people’s expectations try to shape and define them. Both of them will have to discover the courage to take the first step towards living their dreams. A premise like this seems simple, but this brief book summary belies a complex and powerful story.

Coming to terms with standing out becomes a major part of Darius’ growth as a writer and a person.

Out of everything in this book, the cost and triumphs that come from standing out resonated with me the most. Since I had insecurities similar to Darius and Twig’s when I was in high school, I believe that this book would’ve been comforting and inspiring for me as a teen. The late Walter Dean Myers’ has authentically captured what it’s like to feel out of place and I’m thankful that Black teens today have this book to turn to.

In fact, the only thing more emotionally driven than feeling like you shouldn’t stand out is feeling absolutely worthless as a person. One antagonistic character in the book is humanized through a shocking, grim turn of events that shows that finding your worth as a Black person can be harder for some. Ultimately, this character serves as a cautionary tale that encourages the reader to examine themselves and the racist socio-economic circumstances that can negatively impact Black youth.

The late Walter Dean Myers’ has authentically captured what it’s like to feel out of place and I’m thankful that Black teens today have this book to turn to.

Despite everything that Darius and Twig experience, these two young men manage to have a beautiful friendship that is heartwarming. No one is shaming each other for expressing their feelings due to some ridiculous need to “man-up”. No one is being a bad influence on each other. Instead, Darius and Twig encourage each other, joke around, and be honest with each other in order to bring out a better version of themselves.

While there was a lot I liked about this book, the only thing that bothered me was the lack of Black women or any women of color. Seeing only Darius’ depressed mom and Twig’s supportive yet barely there grandma made me wish there were more female figures in the boys’ lives, especially in Darius’ case. They didn’t necessarily have to be family, but a Black female mentor or role model would’ve been nice to see.

Darius and Twig is an honest, contemplative book about living your dream.

On the whole, Darius and Twig is an honest, contemplative book about living your dream. This book shows that standing out is worth fighting for, even if you struggle and feel out of place. True friendship can help you take the first step towards your personal goals despite people or circumstances trying to drag you down.

The Afro YA promotes black young adult authors and YA books with black characters, especially those that influence Pennington, an aspiring YA author who believes that black YA readers need diverse books, creators, and stories so that they don’t have to search for their experiences like she did.

Latonya Pennington is a poet and freelance pop culture critic. Their freelance work can also be found at PRIDE, Wear Your Voice magazine, and Black Sci-fi. As a poet, they have been published in Fiyah Lit magazine, Scribes of Nyota, and Argot magazine among others.

Top photo by Samrat Maharjan on Pexels

 

One of the first things that made me fall hard for this book was the voice of Darius. He has two different voices in this book: the voice of Darius the writer and teenager and the voice of Darius as a falcon. By writing and imagining himself as a falcon, Darius is able to see himself as powerful and capable, something that can overcome the obstacles in his life.

By writing and imagining himself as a falcon, Darius is able to see himself as powerful and capable, something that can overcome the obstacles in his life.

In fact, Darius and Twig have many obstacles. Darius has to look out for a mother with depression and a lively younger brother, while Twig is facing career pressure from his Uncle Ernesto and bullying from a duo named Midnight and Twig. Not to mention, both of them deal with racist microgressions from certain adults in their lives that are supposed to be teachers and mentors.

As a result of these issues, Darius and Twig become very conscious of the price of standing out to their ethnicity and for their individual talents. In chapter twenty, Twig has a heart-to-heart with Darius when he feels caught between standing out and getting put down for it and standing out and becoming successful. While Darius is able to encourage his friend, coming to terms with standing out becomes a major part of Darius’ growth as a writer and a person.

Coming to terms with standing out becomes a major part of Darius’ growth as a writer and a person.

Out of everything in this book, the cost and triumphs that come from standing out resonated with me the most. Since I had insecurities similar to Darius and Twig’s when I was in high school, I believe that this book would’ve been comforting and inspiring for me as a teen. The late Walter Dean Myers’ has authentically captured what it’s like to feel out of place and I’m thankful that Black teens today have this book to turn to.

In fact, the only thing more emotionally driven than feeling like you shouldn’t stand out is feeling absolutely worthless as a person. One antagonistic character in the book is humanized through a shocking, grim turn of events that shows that finding your worth as a Black person can be harder for some. Ultimately, this character serves as a cautionary tale that encourages the reader to examine themselves and the racist socio-economic circumstances that can negatively impact Black youth.

The late Walter Dean Myers’ has authentically captured what it’s like to feel out of place and I’m thankful that Black teens today have this book to turn to.

Despite everything that Darius and Twig experience, these two young men manage to have a beautiful friendship that is heartwarming. No one is shaming each other for expressing their feelings due to some ridiculous need to “man-up”. No one is being a bad influence on each other. Instead, Darius and Twig encourage each other, joke around, and be honest with each other in order to bring out a better version of themselves.

While there was a lot I liked about this book, the only thing that bothered me was the lack of Black women or any women of color. Seeing only Darius’ depressed mom and Twig’s supportive yet barely there grandma made me wish there were more female figures in the boys’ lives, especially in Darius’ case. They didn’t necessarily have to be family, but a Black female mentor or role model would’ve been nice to see.

Darius and Twig is an honest, contemplative book about living your dream.

On the whole, Darius and Twig is an honest, contemplative book about living your dream. This book shows that standing out is worth fighting for, even if you struggle and feel out of place. True friendship can help you take the first step towards your personal goals despite people or circumstances trying to drag you down.

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The Afro YA promotes black young adult authors and YA books with black characters, especially those that influence Pennington, an aspiring YA author who believes that black YA readers need diverse books, creators, and stories so that they don’t have to search for their experiences like she did.

Latonya Pennington is a poet and freelance pop culture critic. Their freelance work can also be found at PRIDE, Wear Your Voice magazine, and Black Sci-fi. As a poet, they have been published in Fiyah Lit magazine, Scribes of Nyota, and Argot magazine among others.

Top photo by Samrat Maharjan on Pexels

 

The Weight of the Stars Is a Gorgeous Novel about New Possibilities

by | Sep 24, 2018 | Book Review, Identity, LGBTQIA+, Popular Culture, Racism, Reading, Representation, The Afro YA

"The Weight of the Stars" Is a Gorgeous Novel about New Possibilities

After an accident brings them together, Ryann Bird finds herself keeping track of space messages for her classmate Alexandria.

Although they have a frosty start, the two eventually bond over their status as misfits and an appreciation of outer space. As Ryann begins to help Alexandria learn more about her astronaut mother and her one-way space mission, their tentative friendship slowly blooms into something more.

One of the first things that drew me to this book was its very short chapters. Each of them has its own title and is only a few pages long, reminding me of those brief short fiction stories known as flash fiction. This resulted in a nice, steady pace for the storyline that urges the reader to keep reading without making them feel bogged down by page length. It was an unexpected yet relaxing reading format.

In addition to the leisurely pace of the chapters, the prose itself is great to read. It is lyrical, thoughtful, and sometimes even humorous. It gives almost every character their own unique voice that makes their personalities palpable. An example of this is the following exchange between Ryann, Alexandria, and one of Ryann’s friends, Shannon:

“What a bitch,” Shannon seethed. “They tell us not to judge a book by its cover, but then, like, they say mean things like that.”

“You have to learn to not care, you know?” Alexandria replied.

“Or at least be able to defend yourself well,” Ryann mumbled.

Speaking of the characters, they are wonderful to get to know. While there are too many to list them all, personal favorites included Ryann, James, Alexandria, Ahmed, and Shannon. Ryann is a tall butch Black girl who is a tough yet loving mother hen to her found family of misfit friends and to her younger brother, James, and his baby, Charlie. James became mute after the death of his and Ryann’s parents. He fiercely loves Ryann and Charlie. Alexandria is a soft butch mixed-raced Black girl whose coldness protects a warm heart. Ahmed has beautiful polyamorous parents and is a loyal friend. Shannon is popular yet kind and fun, a refreshing deviation from the usual popular girl trope.

Bonding the characters, especially Alexandria and Ryann, together is the topic of outer space and the stars. Even for someone uninterested or unfamiliar with space facts, the information is presented in a way that is easy to understand and thoughtful. One part of the book that is especially notable is the depiction of how Ryann and Alexandria’s parents influenced their own outer space goals and appreciation. It is truly touching to see both young girls discuss and work toward their hopes and dreams under the stars.

Together, the writing format, prose, and the characters work to tell a emotionally resonating story about new chances and the burdens we all carry. There is also a slow-burn romance that is pleasant to watch unfold as Alexandria and Ryann grow closer. Sometimes, the baggage we carry can be too much to handle alone, especially if that baggage is unwillingly given to you. K. Ancrum’s The Weight of the Starstells us that others can help you carry that weight and that sometimes it’s okay to put yourself first.

A minor flaw of the book involves some of the characters. While the huge cast of characters made for engaging reading, it also made it a little confusing at times. It can be easy to mix up some of the characters, and I did this myself with it came to Ryan’s friends Blake and Tomas, as well as the adult characters of Alex’s dad Raleigh and the CEO Roland. This wasn’t too bothersome, but Blake and Tomas did feel like the same person sometimes, since their character dialogues felt similar.

All in all, this book is a gorgeous novel about new possibilities, love, and family. Great pacing, characters, and prose, along with a love of outer space, make this a novel worth reading. If you’re looking for a new contemporary coming-of-age story and/or romance, prepare to be dazzled and heartbroken all at once.

The Afro YA promotes black young adult authors and YA books with black characters, especially those that influence Pennington, an aspiring YA author who believes that black YA readers need diverse books, creators, and stories so that they don’t have to search for their experiences like she did.

Latonya Pennington is a poet and freelance pop culture critic. Their freelance work can also be found at PRIDE, Wear Your Voice magazine, and Black Sci-fi. As a poet, they have been published in Fiyah Lit magazine, Scribes of Nyota, and Argot magazine among others.

Top photo by 3Motional Studio from Pexels