i03 Reflection

aznzine

AZN Zine - Issue 03: Reflection



a reminder that you are beautiful and loved


welcome to

the third issue,

reflection



PHOTOS BY

BRANDON ENG

Caesar Soledad

@caes.theday

Self-confidence to me is being proud of what you already have in your life & having the audacity to deem it is enough, despite

what others or society may say is lacking. Nothing is lacking. Only the ability to recognize, build on it & appreciate it all. Even

the parts we may not like right now. Self-confidence is a profound life’s work to tell the world who you really are & how you

make a difference to those around you. It may not come easy sometimes, but nothing good ever really does.


Mimi Lee

@officialsenza_

BEING CONFIDENT

DOESN’T ONLY APPLY TO YOUR CURRENT SELF;

IT’S ALSO ABOUT BELIEVING IN YOUR ABILITY TO GROW





photos by

claire son


I DO NOT REMEMBER

MY ROOTS

BY KAYLIN MOSS

No, no, I don’t want one, you pleaded. As if you

had a choice. Are you sure? Your hair will be so

long, she insisted. You heard beautiful, and were

confused. You were not sure; you were adamant.

The stupidity of her question left you dumb-

founded. Don’t put your hand on active stove

eyes, don’t look directly at the sun, don’t set fire

to your hair.

Didn’t your mom get you a perm

Child, you got some thick hair

Your hair is too nappy

Didn’t your mom get

Child, you got

Your hair

Didn’t

Child

Mommy, I want a relaxer, you said. You did

want one, your desire was genuine. You listened

to their lies and deceived yourself. Later, you

would learn, you just wanted the words to stop.

Beauty hurts, but assimilation sears. As your hair

ignited, the words burned too. The beautician’s

chair was the kind of plastic that screeched with

every minute movement you made. Your hair-

dresser spewed garbage and contributed to the

salon’s cacophony of untruths. By the time you

reached 7th grade, you thought your hair had

stopped growing. You didn’t realize it was your

psyche that was stunted. Stunted, but alive. Living

paycheck to paycheck was survival. Your mother

wanted you to thrive. Language was another cru-

cial role in your assimilation. Your mother taught

you ebonics then banned it. This language could


@JUSTCHILLKAY

not be spoken at home, and soon you forgot how

to speak it. A mirror reflected your chalky image.

Your mother beamed. A perfect fit.

“YOU DIDN’T REALIZE IT

WAS YOUR PSYCHE THAT

WAS STUNTED. STUNTED,

BUT ALIVE.”

Your mother taught you life emerges from

flames. Each day was scalding. You set your iden-

tity ablaze and poured it into a porcelain mold.

The remaining hours were spent asleep. Racism

and discrimination were like the murmur of a

television show on low volume. The Star Spangled

Banner was deafening. Racists were red-

necks in rural towns. The Confederate Flag was

in textbooks, not your middle class suburbia.

When prejudice came from a black person, your

porcelain shattered.

At lunch, when your friend asked you what

classes you’d be taking the next semester, you replied

with honors this, and honors that. The caf-

eteria: where belly laughs and smacking mouths

masked the segregation. A stranger with a strang-

er posse strode past the whites only sign, and

stopped at your table. She blurted, “You taking

those white people classes? You’re like an oreo,

black on the outside, white on the inside.” Each

smug syllable was accompanied by a swish of her

waist length braids. You heard an insult, and were

confused. You heard high academic performance

wasn’t in the definition of authentic blackness,

you heard your experience was invalid, you heard

you couldn’t exist without sacrificing your skin.

Well, ain’t you got something to say, she spat.

A millenia elapsed, and, still, you didn’t have a

response. She extinguished your internal hellfire

in that small eternity. The bell rang. The moment

whizzed by. You tried to relight your fire but were

left with embers. You attempted to pour yourself

back into porcelain. You remembered the mold

was beyond repair. You couldn’t recall what else

occured at school that day. At home you rushed

to the bathroom mirror. You rubbed off the

chalky exterior. You severed all your scorched

strands. You marveled in your reflection. You

stopped wishing you were white. You questioned

everything. How does race affect how you perceive

yourself? Why do you have a narrow defini-

tion of blackness? In that moment in the cafeteria,

you wish you could’ve told the girl with the long

braids, “This is what a black girl looks like”.

“YOU TRIED TO RELIGHT

YOUR FIRE BUT WERE LEFT

WITH EMBERS.”


PINK MOON

NEW YORK, US

Sustainable and eco-conscious

self care products, ranging

from natural toothpastes

to facial cleansers.

@pinkmoon.co

www.pinkmoon.co

XYZ STYLE CO

SEATTLE, US

Queer-owned shop on Etsy

selling handmade earrings

with fun and unique designs.

@xyzstyleco

Etsy: XYZstyleco

SMALL BUSINESSES

URS

MALAYSIA

Ecological artisan oil blends.

Their ultra-nourishing “muse”

body and hair oil is 100% natural.

@urs.my

CHUGI WEAR

INDONESIA

Hand-illustrated satin, glossy

scarves with colorful and

abstract designs.

@chugiwear

Shopee: chugiwear


STRANGE BIRD

US

Natural beauty products with

the aim of making skincare a

spiritual experience.

@strangebirdbeauty

www.strangebirdbeauty.com

LYRA’S LABEL

INDONESIA

Vegan, cruelty-free, and

ethically sourced lip glosses

with 10% of profits going to

a chosen charity.

@lyraslabel.id

TO SUPPORT

DAINTY KLAWS

CALIFORNIA, US

Handmade gel-x press on nails.

They accept custom designs

and you can even choose the

shape and length to your

preference!

@daintyklaws

KYRA & ASH

HAWAII, US

Their flower and bead rings are

both affordable and adorable.

They have cute designs and a

pastel color palette.

@kyraandash




WHAT MAKES YO

“I’m confident when what

I’m wearing is super comfy.”

- @garywu22

“My friends and

faith hyping me

up!” - Taylor Yee


U CONFIDENT

“My confidence comes from my family, friends,

and loves one and their constant support

throughout my daily life.” - Nathan Wong

Photos taken by Toby Wong


Art by Grace Lee (@gc.jl)

Beauty

in the

Details

My grandma will never let you leave her house empty handed.

Whether it’s the leftovers from a meal, a mishmash of snacks from

the basket near the kitchen table, or a drink from the mini fridge in

the living room, she will lovingly guilt you into taking something out

the door.

One of my favorite things to do when I go over is seeing the

new array of food she collected throughout the week: Hawaiian Host

chocolates, a bagel from Ralphs, and some crispy cauliflower veggie

chips. When I sit down at the kitchen table, I am instantly surrounded

with my choice of sweet and savory goodies. Despite her own love

of food, I recently noticed she is always the last one to sit down at

the table for a meal. I never really thought too much about it.


By Amanda Young

Her ability to scope out her grandkids’ favorite snacks translates

easily into more than just a gift of giving food. It is woven into the

details of handwritten cards and anecdotes from simpler times. It is

found in the way she remembers those that have passed, and the

way she continues sharing their legacy to make us all relive their stories

time and time again.

This ability to see a moment in its details

is the kind of beauty I admire.

There is something so beautiful about pushing pause on the life

reel to remember a detailed moment from yesterday. It does not abide

by the fast-paced algorithm characteristic of the information-flooded

society we live in. But it is the type of beauty that is often only seen in

hindsight. Missing it can lead to bittersweet memories, but seeing it

leads to an enriched view on life.

My grandma holds so much beauty in the posture she takes

towards loving others. When she remembered the way my face lit up

after eating an Okinawan sweet potato manju, I found a casing with

three perfectly untouched manjus waiting for me every time I went

over afterwards. When I sent her a blog post, she would respond back

by email with words laced in love and carefully chosen praise.

If the world associated beauty with this type

of posture, I could only imagine the type of

relationships we would be able to reconcile.

Details are sometimes deemed unnecessary. They clog our writing,

our speeches, our PowerPoints. We are always told to keep things

brief and to the point. There is a time and a space for brevity and

simple memos. But what about those that write flowery things not for

the sake of filling space but for the sake of sharing a single moment’s

emotion? We lose a fuller story of unseen beauty when we cut the

“unnecessary details.” Beauty is more than just a physical icon or an

awe-struck moment; it is the stepping off the mindless train of distraction

to love with careful attention to the details.








VALERIE LAU


BE AU

TY

C R

U S

A

E

D

By Jessica Zhang

"write down something you love about yourself."

a simple task greeted with blank stares. uncomfortable grimaces mingled

with almost apologetic sighs. we all easily dish out fruitful flattery

we adore about one another, but when it comes to ourselves, the plate

seems to have been scraped clean. in a culture that serves cocktails of

praised models that represent one size for all concocted with "all bodies

are beautiful," it's almost hard not to become drunk on comparison and

intoxicated with self-deprecation. but perhaps we'd rather see everything

through a tipsy lens because we cannot bear to see ourselves

sober. you see, i was once told to "accept the things i cannot change

and change the things i cannot accept" - if my body is not a permanent

concrete structure, why would i not try to alter it? my body is an altar

where sacrifices are willingly made to fulfill the worship of an image

society has deemed to be godly. if my body is a temple, media has defaced

it with laid commandments. i feel obligated to follow such rules

regardless of whether an idol has been placed in a sacred place, as an

intruder might make themselves comfortable in my bedroom. we have

become the generation obsessed with exchanging sanity for vanity, enthralled

with the art of being both the sculptor and the sculpted in some

sickening showcase in which one neither appears to be the master or

the masterpiece when the curtain finally falls. as starving artists, we

convince ourselves that the cause we suffer for will turn us into something

worthy of being placed on a pedestal, as if we were never fed

enough bullshit already.




Christina Pan

Clarisse Lee

Co-Founders

Haneul Ryou

Head of Writing

Cami Kuruma

Head of Design

Angelica Marie Bautista

Head of Socials

AZN TEAM

Aubrey Unemori

Esther Kim

Kayla Kim

Nadya Azzahra

Pranav Brahmbhatt

Rebecca Yong

Steve Zhang

Adeline Yu

Aerielle Ong

Brenda Nguyen

Emily Quah

Emma Yang

Ira SwatiManish

Sara Lowe

Theresa Lee

Brandon Eng

Ryan Sun

Anjali Patel

Elan You

Erica Dionara

Gitanjali Samayamantula

Reyna Revina

Writers

Designers

Photographers

Socials


Amanda Young

Claire Son

Grace Lee

@gc.jl

Jessica Zhang

@jesszhng

Kaylin Moss

@justchillkay

Toby Wong

@tobywong.png

Valerie Lau

@valeriechiaralau

CONTRIBUTORS


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