Margins Magazine - Volume 5 Issue 3

MARGINS
MAGAZINE
VOL V. ISSUE III
JUNE MMXXIII

Visual Credits: Birmingham Museum Trust
community
noun
/kə-ˈmyü-nə-tē/
1. a group of people with a common characteristic
or interest living together within a
larger society.
resiliency
noun
/ ri-ˈzil-yən(t)-sē/
1. an ability to recover from or adjust easily
to adversity or change.
Visual Credits: Birmingham Museum Trust

LAND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
& EQUITY STATEMENT
We shall neither condone nor tolerate behaviour that undermines
the dignity or self-esteem of any individual or creates an intimidating,
hostile or offensive environment in our physical and digital
spaces. It is our collective responsibility to create spaces that are
inclusive and welcome discussion. Any form of discrimination and
harassment will not be tolerated. Hate speech rooted in, but not
limited to, anti-Muslim, anti-Semitic, sexist, racist, classist, ableist,
homophobic, or transphobic sentiments and/or remarks will not be
tolerated. We all have an obligation to ensure that an open and inclusive
space, free of hate is established. Any behaviour that does not
demonstrate an understanding of these principles and/or creates an
unsafe atmosphere will not be tolerated.
To recognize the land is an expression of gratitude and appreciation
to those whose territory you reside on, and a way of honouring
the Indigenous people who have been living and working on
the land from time immemorial. It is important to understand the
long-standing history that has brought you to reside on the land, and
to seek to understand your place within that history. Colonialism is
a current ongoing process, and we need to build our mindfulness of
our present participation.
Visual Credits: Kyle Bushnell
The first step is to acknowledge that we, Margins Magazine & The
UTSC Women’s and Trans Centre, are on the traditional land of the
Huron-Wendat, the Seneca, and most recently, the Mississaugas of
the Credit River. We would like to sincerely pay our respects to their
elders past and present, and to any who may be here with us today,
physically, mentally, and spiritually. Today, these lands are still the
home to many Indigenous people from across Turtle Island and we
are grateful to have the opportunity to work on this land.
For more information, check out native-land.ca to
learn more about the land you reside on.

A (VERY LATE) NOTE FROM...
Arya Bhat,
Editor-in-Chief
I can’t believe we’re at our last ever issue of Margins
Magazine! Beginning from scratch in the early stages of
the pandemic to publishing over ten issues with an international
team of such incredible writers, editors, and
creatives, I’m so proud with how far this organization
has come since its (very) humble beginnings.
In this issue, we explore the theme of resiliency and
community. Through personal narratives, interviews
with community leaders, and many more, this issue tells
the tale of multiple stories grappling with very human
experiences and their own way of finding resilience in
their journey.
While it is difficult to accept Margins’ indefinite closure,
I am eternally grateful for everyone believing in us and
helping us to get to where we are today. As I journey
into a new chapter of my life, I wish you all of you the
best of luck in you future endeavours and next chapters.
With love and gratitude,
Arya
Shagun Kanwar,
Managing Editor
Returning to Margins Magazine as the Managing Editor
to support the last 3 issues has been pure nostalgia.
After graduating from UofT in 2020 straight into an
incredibly isolating pandemic, there was such a vacuum
of connection.
From building, growing, and nurturing this creative
community over the past 3 years to now moving on to
a new chapter in life as a filmmaker, it’s been a real adventure
to fill that void with the power of the creative
arts and the voices of the collective. While the future
is uncertain for this publication, I am so proud we have
come this far together.
I leave you with this quote by RJ Palacio today: “Courage.
Kindness. Friendship. Character. These are the qualities
that define us as human beings, and propel us, on
occasion, to greatness.”
May our paths cross again in the near future!
Sincerely,
Shagun

A (VERY LATE) NOTE FROM...
Palak Sharma,
Creative Director
I hope everyone had a great year and a chance to take
good care of themselves. I, as a Creative Director, enjoyed
putting visuals to different stories and delivering
a meaningful message to all the readers. I would
like to thank all the artists contributing to Margins
Magazine and helping our team in bringing significant
art and stories forward.
Margins Magazine not only encourages a wide community
to express themselves through significant art
but also helps build stronger connections and promotes
diversity. I wish all the readers, artists, and our
team good luck for their future journeys. Once again,
a big thank you to our entire team for making me a
part of this marvellous magazine. It was a pleasure
working on this issue with all of you.
Sincerely,
Palak
THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING.

MASTHEAD.
CONTRIBUTORS.
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
arya bhat
MARKETING
DIRECTORS
janeve edwards
radhika gupta
CREATIVE DIRECTOR
palak sharma
harridira sivagnanam
fahmida mridha
karma salloum
khadija rashid
mahika jain
maidah afzal
WRITERS
MANAGING EDITOR
shagun kanwar
maisha maimunah
muzna erum
saman saeed
tara hejazi
theevya ragu
you-jin kim
EDITORS
mary wang
sanah malik
sofia suleman
ziyan nadeem
ART/PHOTOGRAPHY
harris qureshi
raha fard
pearl a. sequeira
shagun kanwar
POETRY
aditi vellodi
anjali chauhan
anonymous
joudy kusubati
kanitha onisigiri
vy le
SHORT STORIES
eesha sondhi
tara
palwashay mughal
raj bharaj

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COMMUNITY SPOTLIGHT:
THE MAKING OF OBLIVION
with lamia firasta
Managing Editor Shagun Kanwar
connects with writer & UofT Alumna,
Lamia Firasta, in discussing her
new book Oblivion.
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IN CONVERSATION WITH:
SC:OUT
joined by charli ani
Join Margins Magazine with Scarborough
Campus: OUT (SC:OUT) in discussing
one of UTSC’s longest standing
queer spaces and how the organization
has dealt with the everpresent pandemic.
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OH CAPTAIN,
MY CAPTAIN!
by eesha sondhi
In our community spotlight for this
issue, contributor Eesha Sondhi reminisces
about her familial experiences,
loss, and hope during the peak of the
COVID-19 pandemic.
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table of contents.
Harbinger Of Dawn
You-Jin Kim
The Resilience of Humanity
Sanah Malik
The Hollow Corridor
Joudy Kusubati
A Comic Series
Harris Qureshi
Gen: Survivors
Maisha Maimunah
The Youth
Aditi Vellodi
Untitled
Tara
Butterscotch
Fahmida Mridha
Braids
Raj Bharaj
Releasing Deep Wounds Feeling Anger
Pearl A. Sequeria
The One I Will Always Cherish
Vy Le
Solitude Series
Raha Fard
Disconnect
Anjali Chauhan
Res/Tart/Illience
Kanitha Onisgiri
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Resilience Within You
Resiliency: A Necessary Virtue
or an Overrated Concept?
The Importance of Storytelling
in South Asian Mental Health
Solitaire
Anonymous
Saman Saeed
Arya Bhat &
Shagun Kanwar
Palwashay Mughal

VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
IN CONVERSATION WITH -
SCARBOROUGH CAMPUS: OUT
(SC:OUT)
joined by charli ani
a short note:
Join Margins Magazine’s 2021 conversation with
former Co-President and Finance Coordinator
Charli Ani (they/them) in discussing the past,
present, and future of SC:OUT.
Margins Magazine: What does
SC:OUT do?
SC:OUT: SC:OUT stands for Scarborough
Campus Out. SC:OUT
is run by 2SLGBTQ+ students for
2SLGBTQ+ students and allies. Our
aim is to create visibility and promote
the awareness of 2SLGBTQ+
issues on campus. We organize social
activities, peer support, and provide
resources on a wide range of sexuality,
gender, and health and safety issues.
Our lounge area, located in BV
334/336, is open to anyone on campus
looking for a safe and positive space
to meet, relax, hang out, or study.
MM: Could you share SC:OUT’s
history on campus?
SC:OUT: SC:OUT, which was previously
known as LGBTQ@UTSC
and LGBTQ@SC, was established
in 2001. In 2002, SC:OUT was one
of the first clubs to get its own space
on campus after negotiating with The
Underground. SC:OUT has had a
physical presence on campus for 20
years now.
MM: How can students join the
SC:OUT community and get involved?
SC:OUT: Anyone who wishes to join
SC:OUT is automatically a member.
Membership is not only open to those
who identify as 2SLGBTQ+ but also
allies who wish to become more involved
in advocating for 2SLGBTQ+
issues on campus. Some of our most
community involved events include
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
Trans Day of Remembrance, World
Aids Day, Rainbow Tie Gala, and
events during Pride month. We also
hold multiple fun events each semester
such as movie, art, and game
nights along with pizza kits, queer
history, and happy hours.
MM: How have you pivoted in the
face of the pandemic with your programming?
SC:OUT: With school closures and
the switch to online classes our lounge
area has not been in use as it was prior
to the pandemic. Before COVID, it
was a widely used space for all of our
members to relax, de-stress, study or
just hang out. The SC:OUT lounge
is a major part of what created our
community. Regardless of who you
are or what your pronouns, gender, or
sexuality is, our lounge area offered a
positive space that respected and validated
all experiences.
This was especially important as
many of us had previously come from
various environments that did not respect
or invalidated who we were as
queer individuals. With the current
pandemic we had to find new ways to
bring back that sense of community.
As our lounge area was a major part
of what attracted new members to
our club we had to switch in-person
events to online platforms.
MM: What does resilience mean to
you?
SC:OUT: Resilience to us means the
ability to recover from challenges and
setbacks. The pandemic has been, and
continues to be, a major challenge for
us in many ways. Last year all of our
executive members had graduated
leaving SC:OUT in the hands of its
few remaining active members.
It was thanks to the teamwork of our
new executives that we were able to
keep SC:OUT active this school
year. As a new generation of leaders
we took it upon ourselves to redesign
SC:OUT (both our physical space and
programs). We hope to be more than
just a 2SLGBTQ+ space on campus
but an active leader in promoting and
advocating for 2SLGBTQ+ issues on
campus.
MM: How are you continuing to
build community during these challenging
times?
SC:OUT: Thanks to the collaboration
between our Co-Presidents and
Arya Bhat from the Women and
Trans Centre, we have created plans
to host multiple webinars and online
events this semester with our sister
organization. These events include
workshops in peer support, how to
advocate for your mental health, and
queer & transition health.
We plan to also host online dropin
sessions for anyone interested in
learning more about who we are, what
we do, and resources we offer. Moreover,
this space is definitely open to
anyone looking for people who can
understand and relate to their queer
experiences.
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
THE HARBINGER
OF DAWN
by you-jin kim
about this piece.
The Harbinger of Dawn chronicles the little
things of living with a quarantine routine.
From jotting down tasks, to contemplating
about how to reach back out to folks,
Margins writer You-Jin Kim captures the
various ebbs and flows her mind travels by
throughout the day.
Many of my quarantine days have been spent falling asleep as the sun
says its first hellos and waking up as its rays kiss the clouds and caress
my eyelids through the curtains. It is no wonder that my mental health
has been rocky, especially with the shortening daylight and the winter
meeting me at this junction headfirst. With no bus to catch, and no
9 A.M. class to force myself awake for, I have become the self-proclaimed
harbinger of dawn.
My parents are long gone for work by the time I wake, and I consider
whether it’s worth getting out of bed or not. I have consistently had low
blood pressure, so it is important I eat healthily and drink a lot of water.
But many days I survive with a meal a day, not having the energy or
motivation to cook something, nor wanting to feel the guilt or shame
of buying food on UberEats. Then, I reach the limits of my health and
whisper to myself that only I can take care of my body in this time and
age when everyone is isolated from each other. To avoid the sharp pain
of dizziness and near-fainting incidents, I begin to take care of myself
again. Drinking water throughout the day, cooking meals for myself,
and trying to eat well.
On this particular day, I am suddenly reminded of the two succulents
which sit on my window ledge. As the hours of daylight have shortened
and as the temperatures have dropped, the need to water them
as frequently has significantly lessened. That is to say, unlike me, they
require less maintenance as the days get colder.
I almost envy them, flourishing leaves and all, as I peer at them through
the curtains. To not need constant validation and attention, and to still
flourish... it must be a blessing. Instead, I feel myself withering, as the
days since I’ve last showered increase and the clothes lying on my bedroom
floor pile up. It is with the full awareness that taking care of
myself will help my mental health that I still find myself unable to do
so. So I start another to-do list, adding menial tasks such as cleaning
my room and taking a shower onto it, so that I can convince myself
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
that self-care is another form of productivity. That even
if I can’t bring myself to check everything off that list,
I’ll have at least done something. My mental health is
a balancing act that I have gotten too familiar playing
with. While productivity gives me energy, it comes in
bursts, and in its absence, leaves me feeling guilty and
sick to the stomach.
I wrap the weighted blanket tightly around
me. When my friend first gifted it to me, its
weight had felt suffocating. Now, I feel like
it isn’t enough. Maybe I’ll become Goku
at this rate, muscles tensed from weighted
bracelets and anklets. It’s only been a
few hours since I awoke, yet I can feel exhaustion
welling over me. The screen of my
phone, shining against my face, turns off as
I close my eyes. It’s okay, I can watch the recording of the lecture later... along
with the last five weeks worth of lectures that I haven’t watched. I succumb to
the exhaustion and find myself opening my eyes a few hours later, eyelids feeling
no less heavy than they did prior. Burrowing my face deeper into my pillow,
I repeat to myself that I just need to get past this week.
A ding brings me out of it as a friend messages me, their profile picture popping
up in a little bubble at the corner of my screen. “hey youj, just wanted to
check in w-” I swipe the bubble down before I can finish reading the sentence,
feeling nauseous at the thought of responding. At one point, I would have felt
grateful for the concern. I know I’ll reply to them in a few hours anyway. The
guilt of intentionally ghosting them will eat me up, even if I can’t afford more
than an “i’m doing fine, thanks for checking in!” Another white lie to save the
day. Then I’ll swipe down and click “do not disturb”, as if I’m doing anything
important enough to necessitate this.
Setting my phone down, I manage to push myself to my desk. I open my laptop,
and see the blank document that will soon be filled with a 12-page long
essay about how we need to reform our education system to include sex health
in a standardized way across the country. The approaching deadline takes me
out of my stupor and my fingers finally start tapping away. Hours pass, and I
can no longer tell if the sentence I’m reading sounds grammatically correct.
I have somehow pumped out a mediocre, half-acceptable paper that I would
have once been ashamed of, but right now, it is the best that I can manage. I hit
submit, giving up on a final edit, and slam the laptop shut. I sigh, burying my
face in my hands. There goes the skincare routine I finally started.
My visage has gone back to being a dry canvas, mapped with scars and flaking
skin that nobody can see through the computer screen. Another testament to
prove that my concern for my appearance is not solely based on others’ perceptions.
A part of me wishes to go back to the era of quarantine when I was
busy cooking, baking, & practicing new makeup looks. Now I bask in my own
silence and wish the ground would swallow me up.
I open my eyes and glance up at my clock. 11:29 P.M. The hands of the clock
tick, tick, tick, until the ticking of the clock is all I can hear. Why does it seem
like time is ever moving, and ever changing, while I am still right here? In this
room, in this chair, in this state? Images of the Instagram stories of my friends
living together and having the time of their lives, even amidst the pandemic,
haunt me as I think back at my hours in bed, one meal a day, unwashed hair,
and clothes piling on the floor. How does it seem like they all have their lives
together while I can’t even take care of my own wellbeing? I crawl into my
bed and pull the weighted blanket over me once more. If the familiar wasn’t so
damn comfortable maybe I’d be somewhere else, doing different things. But for
now, I doomscroll until 3 A.M., and watch Tiktoks until 7 A.M. I hate winter,
with its cold beauty, short sunlight, and slushy streets. Even the dawning of the
day is delayed because of it.
“Hi,” I whisper. “It’s nice to see you again.”
I creep out of bed temporarily and budge
open the window, breathing in the crisp early
morning air. The sky starts to lighten up, and
I can hear my mom outside my room getting
ready to go to work. With my hellos said and
done, I crawl back into my bed, letting my
heavy eyelids rest. To meet the next day, and
the next dawn. To endure, again and again.
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
Visual Credits: Krišjānis Kazaks
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
THE MAKING OF OBLIVION
Shagun Kanwar: I believe that your poems
are questions to society, in addressing not
only the social malaise in broken systems
but also the many deep-rooted stigmas &
distorted perceptions. At the same time,
your poems are deeply personal and imbued
with your life experiences. What was
your creative process like in bringing these
poems to life and digging deep for those
vulnerable but hard-hitting truths?
Lamia Firasta: You have no idea what this
powerful message holds for me, you’ve
worded it in a way I never could. Thank you.
I think a huge part of my process comes
about lamia:
Lamia’s poetry explores the intersection between cultural
identity, and personal healing. She draws inspiration
from her background in psychology as well as
her personal life, as a woman, artist, researcher and
mental health advocate, aspiring to write poetry that
captures the shared human experience. Oblivion is her
debut poetry collection.
from struggle. I saw life in a completely different
hue when I entered university. I saw
snippets of how the real world works and it
is lonely, it is hard. Being thrown into University
as a naive high school graduate is exciting
but also scary. I wrote from that perspective.
I also would be lying if a huge part
of my work didn’t stem from my own mental
health journey.
There is a narrative that all writers need to
be heartbroken to write a good poem. While
part of it can be true, I really do not see it
completely that way, I think our unique experiences
and growing pains can inspire us
to feel something and create something
that can not only be cathartic but also a
great coping mechanism.
In all honesty, I wrote most of my poems
on the train, the TTC became such
a catalyst for me. Something about being
in a cabin with no service along with the
people of our city is so fascinating. The
delays with no service were where I got
some more inspiration.
The people of our city have lived such
impactful lives and I tried capturing that
in some of my poems. As an immigrant
daughter and first generation student
I had to do a lot of ‘firsts’ on my own
which came with its own revelations.
Family history plays a huge role in how
I write. Being Indian, and figuring out
your identity in the western world is its
own oxymoron. I saw how my parents
went from ‘what is poetry’, to my daughter
loves writing. It’s been so interesting
to see their perspective on life change as
I completed university.
SK: How has your writing journey
evolved over the years?
LF: I used to love journaling in my diaries
since I was a little kid, and then it turned
into its own way of poetry. I also have an
obsession with stationary and office supplies.
I officially started writing poetry in
high-school but it became more regular
in the first year of university. I started
posting my work online and then I did
spoken word at different venues.
Putting my work out
there is actually what
elevated my craft in
the most
unexpected way.
I would hear variations of things from
people I knew and didn’t know, ‘Oh is
she okay?’, ‘This poem is really sad’, ‘Can
you write something happier?’ etc.
These comments really hurt me at first
but then I was able to tune out the comments
that weren’t helpful and focus on
the ones who actually wanted to read
my work and enjoy my writing.
Pursuing a Creative Writing minor and
taking some creative writing courses allowed
me to see that constructive criticism
can actually be a good thing, but
if you know your writing is good and
feel a calling towards a poem, you don’t
need to incorporate every single piece of
feedback you get.
SK: What was the feeling like to see and
hold your first physical copy of Oblivion?
LF: It was beautiful, it also felt nostalgic,
I had this dream for over 3 years. I
could see the exact colors and words on
the cover and I felt a calling to put it
together. When I received my first copy
I felt a happiness I could not describe.
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
Oblivion felt like the best way to celebrate
my writing journey and also share my story
with the world. I am so grateful to my best
friend, Siham Karamali, for her work on all
the illustrations you see in Oblivion.
SK: How long did it take for you to put together
Oblivion?
LF: I started this process in 2020, I saw a
poetry book competition and I was thinking
of putting something together, submit and
see what happens. I didn’t get selected but I
still had this draft with me. I was thinking
maybe I can self-publish this. I started researching
and asking creative writing professors
at UTSC on how to best approach
self-publishing. I was in contact with The
Soapbox Press and decided to work with
them on the project through Plume Press.
I also worked with Alexandra Mirreau for
the consultation and website component
for myself. It all came together in November
2022.
Unconscious
We sit so close to oblivion
Where we do things without thinking
We speak without listening
We act without understanding
Never questioning the system
Until we realize there is blood
That is no longer red
Now black because our heart
No longer wants to beat
Our breath has become so shallow
That it lives in our bones
Flows in our blood
We don’t recognize ourselves
Anymore
We are oblivion
I will say that it is difficult to self-publish,
being a writer can get very lonely, and navigating
this whole process is something
I had to figure out on my own and truly
wouldn’t have been possible without asking
for help. It is completely okay to ask for
help and good to ask for help, it is hard to
grow as an artist without doing so.
SK: How do you handle vulnerability and
self-doubt when it comes to your work?
LF: Vulnerability and self-doubt is something
I still struggle with when I write. I
definitely think I have become better at it
and know how to listen to it and when to
not. I know you do not have to be vulnerable
when you write, but a lot of my poetry
is about my life or what I am going through
in that season. Self-doubt is natural, it can
sometimes push me to write better. I think
with posting my work online, I became
stronger with the vulnerability piece, I realized
that if people decide to talk about it or I
hear something from the grapevine, my work
is working. Poetry is all about a feeling.
SK: How did you come to choose Oblivion
as the title?
LF: Oblivion is one of my favorite words. It
came up in a lot of poems I wrote. It is such a
beautiful word, the way it rolls off the tongue,
it almost sounds like a good thing. I chose it
as the title because I was in Oblivion prior to
putting this collection together. During the
time I put this together, it was the height of
the pandemic and
I came face-to-face with
a lot of changes,
revelations and truths.
Staying at home made me open my eyes to
so much that I didn’t notice. I was hiding behind
a lot of my old beliefs and doubt got the
better of me.
I also saw that I am a very anxious person,
and went through a lot of therapy at the
time. Therapy is something that I could go
on another other tangent about but it truly
changed my life, I would not be who I am
now. Oblivion is almost a reminder of who I
used to be before 2020 and also a celebratory
reminder for me to live life consciously and
fully.
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SK: Do you have a personal favorite poem amongst them all?
LF: Yes! I feel I gravitate towards certain poems based on the season I am in.
From Oblivion specifically, I feel a calling to say Around the Block and Story Time.
SK: What was the process like while working with The Soapbox Press?
LF: It was amazing! The team is so understanding and they really explained the
whole process to me and were able to guide me through the whole process. It
is also is much more cost efficient compared to other places that I’ve heard of.
With self-publishing you have to put some money upfront and The Soapbox
Press was so great in terms of heir pricing especially for university students.
The work they do to make publishing accessible is so important in the publishing
climate where it can be impossible to figure out how to start. I also worked
with Alexandra Mirreanu’s book consulting services to work on the website and
social media aspect of launching the book.
SK: A certain percentage of sales is donated to Distress Centers of Greater Toronto.
Can you share why this was important for you?
LF: I think it is really important to give back to our community. I know big
organizations will donate 1-10% to an important cause which is great, but with
their profits, I think they can do more.
I also think when writers release a book, it naturally becomes themselves which
of course is a part of the whole process but this book isn’t just about me, it’s
about the stories and experiences that have amalgamated together in Oblivion
about the human essence that I wanted to capture. For that reason, I wanted to
give back, I have volunteered with the Distress Centers and have enjoyed working
with them. The work they do is so important for our community and it is a
free helpline.
SK: Is there anything else you would like to share?
LF: Whoever you are reading this, I want you to know you are special, you may
be a stranger but I feel close to you, you are an inspiration. I am indebted to you,
everyone who reads this, whether you know me or stumbled across this. You
hold an important place in my heart. You are a dreamer, lover and artist at heart.
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
THE RESILIENCE OF HUMANITY
by sanah malik
As she walked past the white corridors one last time, she felt
the urge to stop and say goodbye to those professionals who
worked tirelessly and ensured that she breathed properly. It’s
hard to determine the path life can take, a boring routine or
a deadly plague.
Yet we persist and try to adjust ourselves despite the horrible
conflicts. The world doesn’t stop and neither do we, it takes
courage to smile even in the face of adversity.
I wonder who the hustler is, the university student shaking
with anxiety, the doctor unable to see his kids, or the sanitation
worker who reports right at 6?
Looking back and looking forward, I see people trying to
make sense of the new reality, it’s hard to ignore a future
filled with ambiguity.
We pray for a new dawn every day, bootstrap ourselves to
face whatever lies ahead. With a better sense of community,
today we fight to increase our immunity. We constantly
fall down, question the resilience of humanity, and convince
ourselves it’s a virus that won’t survive for eternity.
Even if it does, I hope we have the last laugh and carry
on with our boring routines that require no masks.
30
Visual Credits: Simon Lee
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
THE HOLLOW CORRIDOR.
by joudy kusaibati
I am 15 years old again. I am lying down on the floor in the corridor
of my family’s apartment in Damascus, Syria. The weather
is cold and very windy outside. It is still early in the morning,
and the sun has just risen. I am lying down in the centre of this
hollow corridor surrounded by four doors and four empty white
walls. I close these doors as I aim to take a refuge in this corridor
and block the sounds coming from the nearby military airport
that is being bombed. I want to only hear my voice with no other
sounds in the house. As I close my eyes, I feel the wind blowing
underneath the four doors surrounding me from each side. I can
also feel the sunlight coming to me from beneath. I shout as hard
as I can to hear my voice echoing through space. I close my eyes
and begin daydreaming about being elsewhere where the sounds
of war are non-existent.
Suddenly I hear, “Next station is... Queen West station.”
I wake up.
I say to myself, “I am here!”
I breathe in and out...
I remind myself that I am no longer stuck in a place surrounded
by death sounds. However, my mind is still a hostage to sounds
and spaces that are no longer here.
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
A COMIC SERIES
by harris qureshi
Harris I. Qureshi (he/him) is a Pakistani-Canadian
genderqueer settler and survivor, and to him
Art is Survival.
Primarily a visual artist, he creates single- and
multi-frame digital comics capturing personal experiences
and their imaginings. He explores themes
of survivorship, gender play, community care, healing,
radical romance, and more.
You can find more of Harris’ comics on page 52.
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
GEN: SURVIVORS
by maisha maimunah
This generation has it so easy…
A phrase. Just a phrase. A combination of words that are grammatically correct.
Is it logically correct though?
What is the big deal? Every generation has had to hear it from our elders. That is
EXACTLY the problem. Why is the cycle still going? If we know that the phrase
itself is problematic, then why do we repeat it for the next? Is this the tradition that
we want to pass down?
The previous generations have endured war, pandemics, racial injustice and have survived
to stand where they are today. I, as a Gen Z, would not know what it’s like to
be in the middle of a World War. However, we are still in the middle of a pandemic;
then why are we still labelled as the lazy generation? War, pandemic, and racial injustice
is still very much prevalent in the world we are living in presently.
Then why does my generation have it easy?
The biggest crime of our generation is that we are technologically fluent. That’s it.
That is why we have it easy. We did not need to go through Zoom manuals or You-
Tube tutorials on how to use Google Meet. We just knew how to use it.
God that was so easy.
Visual Credits: Adil Jambyrbayev
36
No…
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
Visual Credits: Enes Esahren
It has never been so simple. We did not get to pick up school right where we left off,
we did not have learning simplified just because we were learning through a screen.
But hey, we did not skip school. We graduated on time. It’s a win! We are still on track
in the race of life. We are not technologically fluent because we understand better
when we are looking at screens! We use technology as an escape from the war where
the world tells us we are having it so easy.
It is our Neverland. That’s all it has ever been…
Fluency did not magically give us the ability to understand what is going on the screen.
We faced the same barriers when it came to understanding, following, and absorbing
information. But all those are excuses because we know how to use Facebook. Duh…
You, as an elder gen, stood in our shoes.
You knew it was difficult.
Yet, you accused us.
Lazy, lazy, lazy.
Always on the phones,
We must be crazy!
You! Chose to compare our escape with education.
We never chose quarantine; we never chose online.
Yet, we did our best; only to be sidelined.
After all, we grew up with technology.
How hard graduating can be?
We were stuck in a reality we never got to choose.
At a time when we had everything to lose.
A lot of futures have changed, including mine.
But who can I blame, after all it was online?
So, the answer is No…
We are not the lazy generation. We are the generation of survivors. A generation who
are fighting to right the wrongs of our elders. Fighting to save the world. Confronting
injustice, the pandemic... all while trying to survive the academics of technology
fluency.
Survivors. Fighters. Change-makers.
That is who we are, even though we are doing all these behind the screens. We won’t
be the generation who forgets. We will scream till our voices are heard. We will not
hide our mistakes and we will ensure that the world is a better place.
We are resilient, adamant to the point of being stubborn. And it is a quality to be appreciated
because we are following the footsteps of the generation before us. The only
difference is, we don’t want to tell the next gen how easy they have it. We are doing it
so that we can help them fight their wars better. A smaller to-do list. Maybe if we are
successful; when we are successful, a better life.
For that’s how the current generation is. We are Warriors.
Fighting for the world, against the world and even themselves, just to make the next
step easier. For we know how privileged ‘easy’ is.
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
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THE YOUTH
by aditi vellodi
Visual Credits: Chang Duong
Belittled, discouraged, and quite often mocked,
We’re seen as the age that lives through TikTok.
We may hide in hoodies and stare at our screens,
But all we want is to be heard and be seen.
We know things, you know, we’re mostly self-taught,
Adults when it’s ‘easy’, and kids when it’s not.
We live in between and we want you to know;
That regardless of age, we continue to grow.
We’re sources of ideas, solutions, and plans,
The future, you see, does rest in our hands.
Gen Z, Gen X, Millennials as well,
Believe it or not, we still use Excel.
We fight for causes and push for change,
We don’t take anything less in exchange.
We don’t just light fires, we keep them alive,
Our ‘modern beliefs’ are what make us thrive.
You call us stubborn, but what we are is driven,
To make a difference with what we were given.
We abolish old systems that used to divide,
And take taboos and set them aside.
We know that the world is not black and white,
We don’t need reminders of what’s wrong and what’s right.
We know we can lead a world built on truth,
So please trust us, Sincerely, the youth.
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Visual Credits: Annie Spratt
Visual Credits: Shagun Kanwar
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UNTITLED.
by tara
about this piece.
Weeks after the tragic death of Mahsa ( Jina) Amini,
Iranian women and youth have continued to place their
lives on the line for justice and the right to be free in
their own country. Contributor Tara gives us a glimpse
into the life of an Iranian-Canadian looking back on
the the state of their homeland during these world-wide
protests and demonstrations.
cw: death, mentions of civil unrest, murder
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MARGINS.
No matter how much I posted or protested, nothing felt enough. It’s odd being a
child of diaspora. You’re considered one of the ‘lucky ones’ which is true because you
get to sense the freedom that you know that you would never sense back home, but
your heart yearns to go back home, to fight. The sad reality of this though is even
though, you’re considered the lucky one, most of us can’t create big enough change
and even if we do, it’s very possible that you can’t even go back home without the risk
of being imprisoned or even killed. Right now everything feels like a double edged
sword.
Peaceful.
That was the only word that keept popping into my mind as I was walking down
campus.
Peaceful.
But with all of this sadness and frustration, there’s a fire that burns within me. A fire
that reminds me how proud I feel to be an Iranian woman right now. Girls as young
as 14 are protesting, literally kicking out members of the government of their school,
and even being violently punished and having some of their peers killed, the spark in
them doesn’t diminish, it only gets bigger. Instead of the people being scared of the
regime, the regime needs to be scared of them.
We will fight back. Your attacks will only make us more angry. We are the people of
Iran and we are not going to back down until we get the justice and the freedom that
we deserve.
It was a beautiful day too. The sun was shining, visions of red, green, and yellow were
surrounding me, students were walking together laughing, the wind would blow
through my hair. Everything just felt warm. It almost too perfect. That’s when I
started to hear their screaming and could see their running. The police chasing down
the parking lot, shooting. “Get this on video! Get this on video!” one of students kept
saying. Tears starting streaming down my face feeling helpless. They weren’t right in
front of me, they were in Iran, trapped in Sharif Univeristy.
Throughout my whole commute home, I kept dissociating because I needed to be
home helping out, being part of the revolution somehow, but whatever I did, it didn’t
feel enough. It’s not fair that I’m able to live a life where I could choose to say, wear,
and even think what I want without getting brutally punished. It’s not fair that I can
go to school without worrying if the police are going to trap me and my friends and
shoot at us. It’s not fair that I am able to look away from what’s going on in Iran
while some of my family has to constantly endure it. It’s not fair that I have basic
human rights while those in Iran don’t and they have to fight for them.
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But the butterscotch sundae looks good.
I become hyper-aware of the guy behind the counter. I hope I don’t become
one of the tales that reside behind the “Staff Only” and live in the
snickers and exasperated sighs of the annoyed employees.
Maybe I’ll settle for a strawberry, but I haven’t had butterscotch in a while.
I hope they don’t think I’m being rude.
“Scoop of strawberry on the cone, please.”
3:48p.m.
BUTTERSCOTCH
by fahmida mrhida
“Hello ma’am, what can I get started for you today?”.
The words trail out of a tired, forced smile.
I need to pick up my pace, tell them what I want, they must be tired. But I
haven’t decided what I want, yet I don’t know.
Did I stutter? Did I sound too pretentious? I hope not.
I should bring out the money before the food gets here, I can’t juggle the
cone and fish out the money!
He’s closing in on the counter, dammit, I crumpled the bill.
Why are my hands sweating so much?
The next few moments passed by in a blur, somehow the cone made it to
my hand, and I made it out of the shop. I can finally breathe.
3:50p.m.
I should have ordered the butterscotch.
Do I want vanilla?
Or do I want strawberry?
How about a scoop of each?
Yeah that sounds nice.
There is a whole line behind me, I can hear a kid whining, but I can’t really
comprehend what the little girl is saying. My friend is standing guard, waiting
for her turn - oh god, I need to hurry. I glance at the price board. You
know what, maybe a scoop today, and I can save the other scoop for the next
time I am craving something cold and sweet. Right?
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BRAIDS
by raj bharaj
The world
In it were adults
Had given her so much betrayal
To this little girl, they had passed down their own tears.
To her, they had also passed down generational trauma.
With small arms, she only could hold onto to a few.
The rest she asked her heart to keep and bear for another lifetime.
This little girl with two braids now had grownup.
The magic that was once beaming off of her was now dimmed.
The hurts and disappointments went so deep to become her own traumas.
The world had been unkind and unwilling,
The only way she knew to survive was to build thick strong walls around her
body and her soul;
And burry deep in her heart the entire worlds and her own experienced traumas.
Once there was a little girl
Long face, brown colour and tied up two pigtails
She only knew how to dream and play
In her heart she was pure and thought the same of this world.
At a very small age, the world that she thought of fairytales had deceived her.
How could she have not fallen, she took life lessons from children’s books
The story books she read were the only way she thought to understand mankind
around her.
She dreamt of princesses and princes and of happy endings.
Even her imagination had been conditioned to live within dreams and wonders
of fairytales.
They had set in motion an illusion.
But soon something started lurking in her insides.
She could fell that something is not right.
Before long her body started to have its own ailments.
It was impossible for the body to withstand the long endured worldly possessions.
Her heart was crying out
The weight of it all was all too much now
The burden of the world had rendered it exhausted
All the pain that she had asked her loving heart to keep couldn’t be sustained
no longer.
Little by little, this little girl who is now a grown woman had to learn that the
fairytale stories were a mere illusion.
She had to learn to let go of all the traumas passed down to her by the world.
The child, the little girl and the woman.
Dec 2, 2021
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
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OH CAPTAIN,
MY CAPTAIN!
by eesha sondhi
Eesha is a recent UTSC graduate in the Specialist Program in
Psychology who finds great pleasure in sharing her story and
experiences with the hope that her words resonate and provide
the same comfort to others as they do to her while we all
navigate through this phase of emerging adulthood.
about the piece.
In this piece, long-standing Margins Magazine contributor
Eesha Sondhi reminisces about her familial experiences, loss, and
hope during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Visual Credits: Akira Hojo.
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OH CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!
by eesha sondhi
TW: loss, grief, COVID-19.
If I were to ask, what were you doing on
the night of April 24th, 2021... would you
be able to remember it? Well, I am certain
I would. I was seated right across from my
father on our dining table in the house I
grew up in, talking about some psychology
theory I came across in one of my courses
while waiting along with my sister and our
dog, Fellow, for my mother to bring our favorite
chicken curry from the kitchen. The
times were simple and so were our problems.
There was nothing special about that
night except for the part that it was going
to be the very last time we would ever eat
dinner together as a family.
The rumored second wave had not hit us all
by then, making it the perfect calm before
the perfect storm. But my father was no
stranger to storms. You see, he was a Cap-
tain in the Mercantile Marine for more
than 30 years. As a Captain, he had braved
several storms and swells that were as deep
as 9 meters, almost the size of a three-story
building, in the Pacific Ocean more than
once, to the brutal cyclones near Kakinada
in the Bay of Bengal. He was a paragon of
resilience in every way possible.
While under lockdown in India in 2020,
for the first time, my father was home for
more than 6 months. At that time, we
would run up to our terrace every evening
to watch the sun set and as a true navigator
at heart, he would examine the sky and
teach me old proverbial expressions like,
“pink twilight, sailors delight; pink morning,
sailor’s warning,” and would then wait for
it to get dark enough for us to see Jupiter,
Saturn, and the North Star. An interesting
fact about the North Star is that it is right
above the earth’s axis at the North Pole, and
so it neither rises nor sets.
Nevertheless, danger was looming over us.
On April 25th, my father started showing
symptoms of common cold and flu, and by
26th morning, it became clear to us that he
had got the virus. At first, we were all in
pure disbelief as he followed all the Pandemic
protocols to a tee and was only a few
days short of his second dose of vaccine. In
no time, his condition became critical, and
we had to rush him to the hospital. After
finding no respite there, he soon returned
home.
Things became serious when one after the
other, we all tested positive for the virus
and unfortunately on April 28th, I lost my
Daddima (paternal grandmother) to it. I remember
watching my father sleep on the
bed quietly and peacefully after the news
of Daddima’s passing broke out and just in
that moment, for once, I was relieved to not
see him cough uncontrollably or gasp heavily
in desperate need of air with all the remaining
strength that was left in his lungs
by that point. Just remembering the sight
till date sends shivers down my spine.
My sister soon reached out to him to measure
his blood oxygen level and by then it
had reached an alarming low of 80%. To put
into perspective, at 95% or lower blood oxygen
concentration, hypoxemia or acute respiratory
distress starts to occur wherein the
small vesicles within the lungs slowly begin
to fill up with fluid, keeping your blood
and the rest of your organs deprived of the
much-needed oxygen to function, ultimately
leading to multiple organ failures. We
could feel it in our bones that things were
rapidly heading south. We rushed back to
the hospital, a new one this time, and were
back there again a weeks later to admit my
mother.
The next few days and weeks are a blur to
me until May 15th, 2021, when we all woke
up to a pink morning sky. At 7:45 a.m., my
sister picked up a call from our aunt and
put it on speaker and all we could hear was
her crying hysterically on the other side of
the phone before she finally muttered the
words, “I am sorry beta (my child) we really
tried our best, but we couldn’t save our
Captain.”
3 hours after that call ended, my sister and
I found ourselves at the crematorium, surrounded
by only 4 other known faces and
our father, who laid on a bed of logs right
in front of our eyes, motionless. Before performing
his final rites, my sister and I played
his favorite song, and for one last time, gave
a salute to our beloved Captain for fighting
till his very last breath.
Days later, my mother got discharged from
the hospital and although the storm had resolved,
it had left us all completely wrecked
from within.
It has been a year since, and I can firmly
say that grieving my father’s loss has been
a true test of my resilience. I wish I had a
profound message at the end that left you
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all hopeful and optimistic, but I promise to not leave
you disappointed either.
So, here’s what I have learnt in these past few months:
life is unfair and unpredictable, it has always been, and
it makes no exceptions, and so the only thing that you
can control is your reaction to whatever curveball it
throws your way. This brings me to my important discussion
on building resilience. Resilience takes time.
Visual Credits: Shagun Kanwar. Photos provided by Eesha Sondhi.
It is living one day at a time until you are able to
look back and smile at the memories that are left behind
without breaking into tears. It requires inspiration
from those who left their family and risked it all
to save your loved ones in times of peril. It is about
acknowledging those who had sleepless nights with
endless phone calls just so that your close ones could
find a bed at a hospital. And lastly, it requires support
from friends, both near and far, who look out for you
so that you can sleep knowing that you will be alright
no matter what. I am not sure if I am there yet to be
really candid, but before I end my story here,
I would like to leave you with one last piece of unusual
yet heartfelt anecdote which I share with everyone
who tells me how brave I have become after what
transpired. When my sister and I saw our father for
the last time at the crematorium - with his curls all
grown out and a beard that made him look even more
handsome than he already was. But before we could
notice all this, what struck out for us was a subtle
smile that he had on his face. I believe it was his way
of giving us strength till the end, for one last time,
and it will forever be the North Star in our memories.
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
RELEASING DEEP WOUNDS,
FEELING ANGER
by pearl a. sequeira
Pearl is a Third Culture Child, deeply connected to beauty of
humanity and nature in inclusive communities. They communicate
complex matter with storytelling to engage people
and evoke change, via abstract art collages and paintings, and
short stories.
about the artwork.
Anger is a healthy response to injustice.
However, generations of women of colour, are taught at a young
age to suppress our wrath, and stuff it back inside us. In turn, our
body stores emotional trauma, resulting in physical pain and restrictions.
Engaging in somatic practices, including sound baths,
rolfing, and dance therapy provides tactile prompts for our physical
body, to become aware of the emotional hurt we hold within
ourselves. These modalities move us at a cellular level and help us
releases deep trauma wounds we store in our body. This painting
explores the powerful emotional release that can occur during a
somatic practice.
Our peoples, we have complexity of pitch – oscillation of sound waves – that
mimics the sounds of the tones surrounding us. When the monotone people
arrived on our crystal portal in their high frequency tubes, they struggled
to understand us. To help them acclimatise, we changed our tones to speak
with them, and shared our knowledge to assist them make homes on a new
planet. They noticed we were in pain by speaking in one frequency constantly
and taught us to make potions to soothe our vocal systems when we speak in
monotone for long stretches of time. In time, our peoples mixed, and our ragas
organically morphed into new ways of existence.
Adam Smith called our reciprocity, our exchanges inefficient. Little did he
understand that our way of living is not for the moment. It is not quid pro
quo. It is peaceful and beautiful. We are a community that learns to integrate
structure, scale, and rhythm. We improvise and move. We practice patience
and kindness. We show love and dignity to all.
So, when you ask me about living on planet Earth, I say no. I love my complex
ragas. I believe that life needs to be lived across octaves, not just on F-sharp,
constantly. I believe in the value of generosity, sharing our treasures with others
who do not sound like me. Because in doing so, my soul sings a joyful raga
that vibrates at the same frequency as my divine mother, our crystal portal.
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THE ONE I WILL
ALWAYS CHERISH.
by vy le
I broke into tears as I sat in silence,
With my aching heart.
Is this how it feels like to fall out
of a relationship?
Memories flashed through my head
one by one.
Those nights we spent chasing the wind,
The laughs and cries we shared,
The moments when we thought
we are unbreakable,
The hopes and dreams we had
when we were young,
All the promises we foolishly made,
What changed?
Maybe we did.
Millions of questions came into my head.
Why did you have to leave?
Why did things have to change?
When did the distance come between us?
If even we could fall apart, what can’t?
For the longest time, you were the
stars to my night sky.
Without you, I’m lost in the dark,
Afraid to move forward.
I questioned, and I blamed,
But what’s the point?
It couldn’t have been easy for you too.
People outgrow each other, and that’s normal.
Things die out, and that’s fine.
Life happened, and that’s okay too.
62
Maybe there is beauty in passing moments.
Part of me is thankful that you let me go,
Because it made me realize that I have the
strength to walk on my own feet.
We were there when we
needed each other the most,
And that’s enough.
We were young but we grew up
because of each other,
Now it’s time for us to
spread our own wings and fly,
And go our separate ways.
Even though it hurts to
leave it behind in the past,
I am grateful for the friendship that we had,
And I thank the lucky star every day that you
came into my life.
I hope you’re happy,
Because I was happy because of you.
63
Now all that’s left of you,
Are just memories,
But they are beautiful nonetheless.
So I will hold them close to my heart
and move on,
For you will always be there.
Thank you,
For some of the best times of my life,
For my youth wouldn’t have been the same
without you.

VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
A SOLITUDE SERIES
by raha fard
Raha Fard is an Iranian-Canadian, Toronto based artist. She had
Master’s degree in telecommunication engineering, before studying
drawing and painting at OCAD University. She works in multiple
disciplines such as drawing and painting, installation, digital art,
and making short films to question how people are interconnected
through their identity in different parts of the world despite their
distance and their differences.
about the artwork.
Her works are reflections of her own lived experience in witnessing
people who are suffering, due to social or political issues in
other parts of the world. She had group exhibitions in Iran and
Canada, and got “Online International Learning Residency”,
collaboration between OCAD U and Mapua University in the
Philippines.
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DISCONNECT.
by anjali chauhan
RES/TART/ILIENCE.
by kanthida ongarjsiri
Do you still [ ] me? There’s interference
obscuring the interface between us
and the dear oblivion of campus daze,
where your eyes’ capillaries expanded
into a film of exhaustion. Now, I trace
your saccades along the few pixels
that blur my varsity sweater’s collar
as the webcam lens refracts your gaze
away, wavelengths from your face propagating
without the sinuous clack of your heeled boots,
the heated haze over your dark roast,
your soft pilling sleeves stretching around my shoulders.
Restart. Only applies to games.
Escape. An easy mode in life.
Smile. For the perfect photo.
Insecurities. Reflected on the screen.
Live. Pass the hardest level.
Idealism. Time to offload it.
Excellence. The game is over.
Negativity. It has been slain.
Compassion. Let go of comparisons.
Empowerment. That is my name.
Restart can happen in
Realities.
Resilience: your restart button.
Resilience is always here;
Resided in your mind,
Connect the first letters,
Congrats, you have found it.
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Visual Credits: Krišjānis Kazaks
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THE RESLIENT
FLAME
by anonymous
Resiliency is an interesting concept.
We often see resiliency in a multitude of things.
In rubber bands, it bounces back when stretched to its limit,
In sports, players push through that last defence line to win.
Resiliency is everywhere.
Have you ever thought resiliency to be like a fire?
See, now this is a strange concept. We often see
resilience as a way to “bounce” back from adverse events but
rarely as something that can bring us back to life.
When we see ourselves hurt by the people we love, there’s
a fire within us that grows out of frustration. This one source
of our fiery compassion slowly evolves into resentment and
anger. Fire can keep us warm and bring light, but out of control –
it can burn everything to the ground.
about this piece.
A lot of people think of resilience as something
that helps you bounce back in some way.
This poet reimagines it as something that flows
back and forth, as a small flame or a bonfire. To
them, resiliency is taming your inner strength.
Not to burn everything down around oneself,
but to return with the right kind of warmth.
We ignore this fire within us in turbulent times,
especially when alone.
But this doesn’t mean our inner embers can’t be salvaged. It just
means we need the right process of taming it.
This is what emotional resilience is. To control the power
you still have inside you and create something new out of it.
That is true strength and stability.
With all this said, take a moment for yourself to see how much
you’ve tended to that fire within you this year.
Be proud of yourself. Know how far you’ve come and know
that this fire within you is capable of brightening up the world.
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RESILIENCY: A NECESSARY VIRTUE OR AN
OVERRATED CONCEPT?
by saman saeed
Visual Credits: Danielle Eagle
Resilience. It is a word we have all encountered
in our lives, one that is often
paraded as the secret ingredient to overcoming
life’s adversities. But what does
resilience truly mean? If you ask me, it
is that voice inside you, whispering keep
going when the world around you has
turned to chaos. It is the strength that
helps you pick up the shattered pieces,
wipe your tears, and stand up tall, ready
to face the world once again.
I remember when I first learned how
to ride a bike. I was exhilarated, as the
wind rushed past my ears, along with
the thrill I got as I raced the bike. But
that fantasy shattered as I suddenly fell.
My vision lauded with scraped knees,
blood, tears, and pain. Yet, amidst the
hurt, there was this tiny spark within
me that refused to be extinguished.
A spark that pushed me to get back
on that bike and pedal again, no matter
how many times I fell. That spark is
resilience. It is our refusal to be beaten
down by setbacks. In our life’s journey,
we all have our share of falls, but it is resilience
that gives us the courage to rise
after each one.
Lately, there’s a quiet murmur, ripples of
thought that ask some poignant questions:
Are we, in our pursuit of resilience,
forgetting to address the factors that
knock us down? Are we so determined
to not give up that we are willing to put
ourselves at risk? A very simple example
of this is of college students. How many
of us have sacrificed countless hours of
sleep, skipped meals, and avoided friends
and family just to score a decent grade
in a course, which at the end of the day
would inevitably be curved down?
We put ourselves and our mental health
at stake just to prove that we did not give
up. This is intertwined with our sense of
community and responsibility as we do
not want to disappoint our loved ones, resulting
in us putting the collective needs
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above our personal ones. Although this is
an admirable trait, one must acknowledge
and understand the importance of letting
things go instead of fighting for something
without a cause.
Our understanding of resilience is also colored
by the unique tapestry of our cultural
backgrounds and life experiences. For
someone like me who grew up in a tightly
knit community where everyone supported
and cared for each other, resilience is not
just about personal tenacity. It’s intertwined
with the collective strength of my community,
the sense of unity that empowers us to
overcome adversity together.
At the same time, this collective resilience
comes with a sense of responsibility,
which may lead to one pushing aside their
well-being just to ensure that their community
is not let down. Now, consider my
friend, someone who never relied on anyone.
To her, resilience is a solitary endeavor,
a testament to the power of individual
resolve. In this context, one is resilient just
for themselves. Essentially, resilience is not
a one-size-fits-all concept.
So, where does that leave us? We need a
more balanced view, a perspective that embraces
the complexity of resilience. Resilience
is about nurturing that inner strength
that helps us brave the storm, but it is also
equally about recognizing when change is
needed. Whether that changes on a personal
level or a systemic level depends on
the situation at hand. You cannot just keep
on bandaging a wound that needs stitches
to cope. Eventually, you will bleed out.
A significant paradigm shift is thus needed
to support and enhance resilience. As a
society, we should aim to create an environment
where resilience is not overburdened
with the constant requirement to battle
adversity but instead is recognized and
supported through comprehensive means.
Policies and societal structures need to be
re-evaluated and designed to support individuals,
acknowledging their struggles and
lending them a hand when required, rather
than just expecting them to bounce back
tirelessly. On an individual level, we should
strive for emotional intelligence, understanding
our boundaries, learning when to
push forward, and especially when to step
back.
Evidently, resilience is undoubtedly important.
It is the fuel that drives us forward
when the road gets rough. However,
let’s not romanticize resilience to the point
where we lose sight of the bigger picture. At
the end of the day, life is about more than
just surviving; it is about understanding
why we fall, learning how to pick ourselves
up, and working towards a world where we
do not have to fall so hard so often. The romanticism
of resilience should not deter us
from recognizing its true essence: it is not
a lonesome battle against adversity, but a
dance with it, with ample support from our
environment.
Visual Credits: Aserusainhuu
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THE IMPORTANCE OF STORYTELLING IN
SOUTH ASIAN MENTAL HEALTH
by shagun kanwar & arya bhat
tw: mental illness, suicide, domestic violence, medical negelect
INTRODUCTION
Stories are a powerful medium to shape
both an evolving culture and society at
large. From oral traditions to motion picture
films, storytelling continues to impact
and inspire generations by dissecting
societal issues out in the open, forcing us
to re-evaluate stigmas and biases that have
been systematically built into the very fabric
of society.
In recent years, filmmakers started vital
conversations about mental health by sharing
stories on screen that dared to speak
up and not hide the struggles within the
South Asian community. Editor-in-Chief
Arya Bhat and Managing Editor Shagun
Kanwar discuss two projects across the
spectrum of both fiction and documentary,
that rise up to mark in indelible ways.
QALA, D: Anvita Dutt
Shagun Kanwar: I have spent an incredible
amount of time thinking about Qala. This
film tells the haunting story of the destructive
pressures of parental expectations, the
looming ghosts of one’s own past, and the
consequences an ambitious singer must face
for the choices she makes. A story intricately
weaved together by writer-director Anvitaa
Dutt, this film is a masterpiece that takes
you along a journey into the unraveling of
an artist’s madness and grief.
Generational trauma is at the forefront of
this narrative, which is what I believe to be
the consequence of the domination of patriarchy
in society. Societal expectations influence
the main character Qala’s mother,
which in turn seep into the mother-daughter
dynamic in a very toxic way.
The mother-daughter relationship is a classic
example of an authoritarian parenting
style (according to Diana Baumrind’s development
model), where there are high expectations
& demands but low warmth, leading
to an emotionally distant parental figure.
In this case, we see an insecure ambivalent
attachment because of inconsistent parenting
behaviours and an unpredictable nature,
which manifests as anxiousness, low-self
esteem, desperation and a fear of abandonment
as an adult. In this attachment style,
the individual doesn’t respect their own personal
boundaries because they are afraid of
rejection and abandonment.
In simpler terms, extremely high parental
expectations and rejection of the Qala’s
identity as a daughter and woman ultimately
messes her up completely and irreversibly.
Arya Bhat: It’s really important that we
highlight relationships like Qala and her
mother’s because of how people’s identities
evolve. We all understand the age-old theory
of nature vs. nurture in which an individual’s
identity develops from both biological
factors and environmental factors; these factors
either work with or against each other.
In Qala’s case, we see that her upbringing
shapes her identity, or lack thereof, due to
the cold and distant nature of her mother, as
you mentioned earlier.
We are also in this sort of renaissance age
of social connection and networking at the
moment, where we feel simultaneously more
connected and apart in more ways than one.
Because of this shift from an in-person
connection to virtual, we perceive a higher
prevalence of people going through the
same thing, at least in my own lived experience.
Regardless of whether we have this
tool of connection, the idea of being open
with strangers is viewed differently here in
the diaspora versus the homeland. In Western
countries, we are open to the practice of
bringing an external body in to help us with
our issues. However, back in the homeland,
this is a sign that the familial unity or the
collective has failed; and this blame is put on
the individual for putting the community at
a greater disadvantage.
SK: That’s the unfortunate, harsh reality
that needs to change. We can dig deeper
within the family unit furthermore and analyze
other interpersonal dynamics. In this
film, they show Qala being educated but still
held back as compared to another character,
Jagan Batwal. Jagan becomes Qala’s contemporary
and in a sense, Qala’s adopted brother.
Instead of uplifting both her children,
Qala’s mother holds her back. She proceeds
to victimize Qala for her ambition.
Dominating patriarchal notions are brought
center-stage: sons, even adopted ones, are
seen as the ones continuing a lineage, whereas
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daughters are seen as
paraya dhan, strangers
meant to be given away.
I really appreciated seeing this play out on
screen in this film because it held up a mirror
to society at large. This regressive belief
holds back girls and women even today in
certain South Asian societies where educated
women who are meant to be married
are seen as “trophy-wives” that shouldn’t use
their acquired educational qualifications and
talents. The other extreme is that some families
won’t even give the opportunity for education
because it’s seen as a wasted investment.
This way of thinking needs to be left
behind for our society to progress forward.
AB: For sure, and I think this unfair burden
of expectation & labor put on women can
go in different directions. Even with today’s
infrastructure for most women in the world
to go out and receive an education, there are
a myriad of ways in which they’re disadvantaged
even with these esteemed credentials.
Like any system, there are a bunch of factors
working against and with each other.
One example is of the beti-boss or “girlboss”
movement. While the term girlboss was
co-opted to be a part of this empowering
movement, it is still created within a capitalist
and patriarchal system. In a community
where first born sons are prioritized, you get
trapped in this vacuum of sorts. This patriarchal-capitalist
system treats you expendable
and easily replaceable, no matter how much
knowledge or experience you may have.
Another extreme version of this can be
found in the Victorian era and even today
in modern society where you see an intersection
between class, gender, and labour.
We may fall into the trap of thinking that
because back then women had barely any
rights compared to today, almost every
woman stayed home and did not work, but
that is not true. Only those who could afford
not to work were at home. Those who
could not took on multiple roles like maids,
babysitters, chefs, etc. all at once. There still
is a labour expectation, even from folks
coming from different socioeconomic statuses.
The capacity to utilize your knowledge
and credentials is one thing, but being
equipped with resources to do so is another.
Those from lower socioeconomic backgrounds
are still not able to do so because
they have many shoes to fulfill before pursuing
their own endeavors.
SK: Agreed. We really need to zoom out
and see the larger picture to understand
all the social determinants impacting the
progress of women.
When I think about Qala, there is one incident
that really stands out to me. When a
doctor comes to see Qala after an incident,
he dismisses her cry for help by brushing
it aside as exhaustion. In this scene, alarm
bells should have been going off in the
doctor’s head that Qala is a patient at risk
and has an unstable mental condition. The
doctor goes on to say, “It’s nothing. This is
something that all women tend to have, it’s
totally normal” despite her clearly saying,
“there is something wrong with me”.
Medical systems and
by extension, medical
professionals can cause
a lot of damage to the
patients they treat when
they don’t recognize
their own biases.
Even in today’s day and age, there are collapsing
systems, underfunded healthcare,
and medical professionals who don’t have
appropriate training in place. This is a major
problem because supports aren’t in place
to help those in need.
AB: It is great that you bring that up because
we often see older generations with
the bias that today’s generation is just complaining.
But what complaining is to them,
is what research shows as warning signs of
developing mental illnesses. What they see
as a lack of passion, is action paralysis, not
boredom or laziness. Even with the concept
of laziness, people are exhausted in some
shape or form, and we need to encourage
healthy habits to prevent future burnout
periods rather than shaming others for being
lazy.
Speaking of warning signs, you are absolutely
right in that healthcare institutions
are severely underfunded nowadays. To be
honest, I feel like they’ve always been underfunded.
There’s a sociological term hegemony that
comes to mind when you bring up collapsing
systems. This term describes the human
tendency to trust larger institutions,
almost as if with a blind eye. With knowledge
comes power, but that power can be
exploited for all kinds of folks who don’t
know their way around complex institutions
like healthcare facilities. To navigate
these systems, we need to understand how
we fit in. Oftentimes clinicians and the
medical community look at the microscopic
phenomena of mental health, even when
it comes to behavior.
Grassroots organizations might bring a
different perspective by raising awareness
of how community support can allow folks
to work with their mental illnesses, rather
than work against it. We as academics
might be too theory focused, but we should
start asking the question:
how do these behaviors translate
into different parts of
society?
In this way, we re-evaluate our understanding
of treatment to be more holistic for
each community.
SK: Through film, the audience is more
aware of the problems that exist. Arya, we
both have an academic background in neuroscience
and psychology and have worked
in spaces that deal extensively with mental
health & equity, so we are blatantly aware
of issues that do exist. I believe that more
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people would be unaware or lack the knowledge
about such problems if it were not for a
film like Qala, that shows how mental illness
is dismissed, especially amongst women, and
what the consequences can be. I’m not saying
that there is a complete lack of awareness
but there are most definitely missing gaps in
the consciousness of the general public.
This is a reflection of society. I have heard
in some South Asian families, people outright
refuse to go to doctors because of the
distrust in the system. This is ironic considering
how many people want their children
to become doctors. Anyways, the point I am
getting at is,
even if systems are
flawed, people should
not avoid getting the
help they need. By being
aware, they are more
readily able to advocate
for what is needed while
navigating these complex
systems.
Films like 3 Idiots show how collective communities
rally together in support of students
facing immense mental stress & pressure in
highly competitive academic environments.
Dear Zindagi is another film where the protagonist
goes out to seek mental support
Visual Credits: Jr Korpa
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through a therapist. These are all options
communicated through film to educate the
general public, while still entertaining the
masses. Two birds with one stone!
AB: Exactly! Working with what we have
now, we have different ways and mediums
of sharing knowledge, especially film as a
tool to facilitate discussion. I hope people
will continue to share their stories through
film especially for South Asians like us,
since it does bring back pre-colonial cultural
elements.
For instance, we see the concept of mindfulness
all around the world today used in
business retreats, employee assistance programs,
etc, all while this concept originated
in South Asian spaces. Mindfulness and
reaching out to those in the community
have always been in our culture. If we look
back enough in our roots, we can recognize
that all of these topics have been discussed
for ages. However, an open discussion of
mental health is beaten down because of
how it has been portrayed in a post-colonial
way. We are slowly moving forward in
an age where we are finding ways to help
decolonize mental health in South Asian
communities. This is a chance to reframe
our stories as spaces for learning, healing,
and growth.
Visual Credits: Jr Korpa
HOUSE OF SECRETS: THE BURA-
RI DEATHS, D: Leena Yadav, Anubhav
Chopra
AB: House of Secrets shares the untold
story of how 11 family members from the
Chundawat family perished overnight,
from their early beginnings to the hours
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after their demise. While the premise is a
mystery of finding out whether or not the
family deaths were a mass murder or a mass
suicide, directors Leena Yadav and Anubhav
Chopra bring in underlying tensions, intrapersonal
conflicts, and the consequences of
unresolved trauma in a complex and conservative
society.
I am no film critic but I think when you
watch a true crime documentary that is close
to you by culture or another identity, it hits
harder than you think. We often see South
Asian parents and other families from marginalized
backgrounds face internal pressures
by not discussing their feelings with
one another or an outside member, especially
when most of these families are patriarchal.
SK: Psychologist Rachana Johri aptly describes
this reality in the documentary when
she said,
“I think what we saw in
this family was an extreme
version of what
we see in families all
over the world. The family
presents itself very
often, as this very beautiful,
harmonious, intact
‘Indian family’.
Families have secrets
and they can be preserved
at all sorts of
costs.”
With this case, there are such complex power
dynamics at play, that are not just specific
to the insular family unit but the community
and country at large. This tragedy took
place in 2018 and is a direct consequence
of the stigma around seeking mental health
supports. I think it is high time that people
move beyond log kya kahenge or “what will
people say” and start having more conversations
across all communities, albeit how uncomfortable
they may be.
AB: For sure, this phrase is something I
think a lot of people in our community
feel, that it holds back the next generation.
I mean, why do we push this narrative that
our aukaat or worth is dependent on how
well we can hold down ourselves, let alone
a family? Log kya kahenge pushes this idea
that when we seek outside support it is like
we are desecrating familial relationships by
exposing family secrets. In the docuseries
itself, we learn one of the daughters, who
worked at an executive level in a company,
did not socialize much at work. No one even
knew she was getting married or what was
happening with her and the rest of the family.
Like this daughter, many people in South
Asian societies misattribute the act of opening
up as a form of weakness, due to an “us
versus them” mentality.
Visual Credits: Jr Korpa
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In sociology, we have two kinds of families -
a chosen and a biological family. A biological
family is what you consider family by blood,
while a chosen family is where you see family
as a set of bonds outside your blood relatives.
In a traditional joint family structure,
everyone has their own role to play. These
roles eventually shape each family member’s
identity.
When something in the
environment disrupts
that shaping of identity,
it also disrupts this sociological
system of how
a typical nuclear family
unit behaves.
Lalit Chundawat experienced so much in
such a short timespan that his role as man
of the house conflicted with his innate need
to take care of himself; and I think that
changed the course of his social identity.
SK: I find it troubling that despite recommendations
for Lalit Chundawat to see a
psychologist, it was brushed aside. This was
after 3 traumatic incidents: a motorbike accident
in 1988 where he sustained physical
head injuries that made him drop out from
medical studies, a murder attempt in 2004
that led to Lalit not speaking for 3 years,
and his father’s death in 2006. There was
so much unresolved psychological trauma
that resulted in substantial experiences that
altered the trajectory of life. After each incident,
there were considerable behavioural
signs that were just brushed aside and never
seriously addressed because of what I believe
to be a fear of how society would perceive
the family at large. There is this strong othering
of dysfunctionality.
AB: PTSD and other related trauma disorders
in South Asian communities are very
common, despite some folks’ attempts to
suppress their symptoms. As we discussed
earlier, these behavioral changes aren’t your
typical reactions to events. These are warning
signs that people need support from
what they have experienced.
We all need time to recover and rehabilitate
what we have injured, whether it is our minds,
our bodies, or our hearts. Everytime a deeply
traumatic event occurs, neural networks in
our brain reconfigure in such a way our brain
tries to protect us from this “threat”. The
less time we have to recover and the more
trauma we go through, the more deeply set
this defense mechanism becomes embedded
in our behavior. In Lalit’s case, we are witnessing
the detrimental effects of unresolved
trauma. When Lalit’s family members dismissed
outside help saying he “doesn’t need
to see a psychologist”, this was a catalyst for
the further disintegration of his neurological
faculties.
SK: After the psychological autopsy that
was conducted after the family’s deaths, they
concluded possibilities of mass or collective
psychosis amongst the family members. A
lot of these members had higher-level educational
qualifications and jobs. Despite
this, it seems that no one raised a question
about the various flags over the years of the
stronghold that Lalit’s coercion and control
had over the entire family because in society,
they seemed to be the picture-perfect family.
I agree with journalist Barka Dutt’s sentiments
when she said,
“What we really need
is a sociological autopsy.
At the heart of it, there
seems to be this mass resistance
to talking about
mental health...
because we have stigmatized these conversations.
I think that is the reason why a lot of
times, we never find out the truth.”
AB: With this sociological autopsy that Dutt
mentioned, I think we should delve deeper
into how nuclear families facing internal
pressures internalize their roles and how
conflicting ideas can create a pressure cooker
environment. Internalizing social roles without
having an awareness of the larger picture
at hand can often lead to cult-like following
behavior; especially when we have a leading
individual claiming to hear voices or see visions.
In the Chundawats’ case, we see this
gradual surrender from the rest of the family
members towards Lalit, because of how he
contributed as the “Man of the House” following
his father’s death.
Sociology’s Focault discusses knowledge as
a source of power and how power is able to
flow through institutions and people rather
than being created in them. Lalit had this
knowledge that other family members did
not have access to, and as a result, started to
follow Lalit’s teachings and demands in the
name of reaching some kind of truth.
Regardless, this behavior of surrendering all
awareness and autonomy to one person is
troubling. Even in less extreme cases, we see
this kind of phenomena in other parts of society,
where people follow an altered perception
of reality. For example, you see propaganda
and all kinds of misinformation that
creates fear mongering in people. In politics
and government, you see movements or social
phenomena created to enforce a certain
narrative or justify an action.
SK: Journalists and the media have a responsibility
to report ethically. However,
due to sensationalized reporting and unethical
media practices, this case was paraded
around in a voyeuristic fashion. This could
have been an opportunity to educate the
masses at large and promote positive societal
change. This tragedy occurred in 2018 and I
believe that the way the case was reported
re-traumatized the community at large.
As someone with a background in documentary,
I do think that filmmaker Leena Yadav
has made considerable efforts to handle this
topic with lots of care and sensitivity. With
this case and film specifically, I was really
thinking about the ethics of documentary
filmmaking. One thought that came up was
if there was any community care in place for
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Visual Credits: Jr Korpa
a community already suffering. In an interview,
Leena Yadav shared that, “those were
very difficult conversations, I must admit.
But I will always remember a beautiful incident
that happened, while we were interviewing
the family members, one of them
came up to me and thanked me saying that
this was like therapy for him. This is when I
felt we’re doing the right thing…”.
The process of interviewing affected community
members for this documentary was
one outlet for talking about this disturbing
incident that uprooted their lives and correcting
the media narrative. But beyond that,
I truly wonder if there were any community
supports in place.
AB: I wonder that as well. This was not just
another event that people move on from. I
mean three whole generations passed away
under one roof, and what? Forensic teams,
journalists, police, everyone had wall to wall
coverage with this. At one point I thought
that these members of society would be able
to detach themselves from their work, unlike
the surviving relatives, neighbors, and family
friends. But the truth is, they’ve become a
part of the grieving community as well. Seeing
your own loved ones in those who have
passed in an unimaginable way can mortify
you.
This is why it’s so important to reimagine
what community safety & care looks like and
implement in place. These supports provide
closure and an outlet to be vulnerable with
others. When these supports are embedded
in a community, especially one that is shaken
to its core, we see new values develop, new
words that describe this unity which may
be untranslatable but are still meaningful in
their own ways. Only people who grew up in
those kinds of settings may be able to understand
what this means.
What the Burari community went through
is not intergenerational trauma, nor would
it be collective trauma. I think in this case it
was a form of trauma bonding where people
were not directly affected by the tragedy, but
learning about one of their own community
members passing in a bizarre way did something
to them. In the docuseries, you’ll see
community members like that rallying together.
CONCLUSION
As difficult it is to say, the case of Qala in
a fictional sense and the documentation of
the Chunawat family’s history are two of
many examples of a larger epidemic in the
South Asian subcontinent. The lack of understanding
and community approaches can
devastate the population at large, so it is important
we start making space for uncomfortable
conversations and address harmful
misinformation about mental health and
mental illness. Turning a blind eye cannot
be a solution anymore, because how many
more families will ask themselves, “Who
else will have this same kind of fate”? It is
not a community’s job to fix the individual.
Rather, it is their job to hold the individual’s
hand while they fix themselves. In this way,
we provide support and give autonomy back
to the individual.
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I
SOLITAIRE
by palwashay mughal
about this piece.
Solitaire means isolation in French. It is a
story about the toxicity of social media. How
social media creates less connections between
people and more resentment, jealousy,
and mental health issues. It is a story about
the power of relationships and how to create
meaningful bonds in moments for crisis.
Donna tapped on her Flo app to mark the first day of her period.
It was official. She was getting divorced and there was no
baby to save the marriage. No reason to call Ivan or force him
to come back and reconcile.
Donna looked around her new two-bedroom condo. After the
divorce she had to move out of her ex-husband’s house. He
never needed her to pitch in with the mortgage. The grey carpet
was thin and moist. The walls were yellowish white. The
kitchen was connected to the living room and had white tiles.
Donna was cold so she wrapped herself with her blanket, laid
down on her couch and started to scroll through her phone.
After some time, Donna’s eyes found her seven-year-old
daughter in the corner of the living room with her eyes glued
to her iPad. Donna was glad she smuggled the iPad when she
moved out of Ivan’s house. If she hadn’t, Julie would have driven
her crazy by asking her for bedtime stories, going out to play
in the park, or snacks and other annoyances. Donna realised
when Julie was four that the iPad would shut her up. The only
thing Julie ever asked for was a charger. One would assume
a marriage would last if the child was not fussy. That was not
true. She stared at Julie and in that moment, she wished her
daughter would just disappear.
Donna broke her stare, looked down at her tummy rolls and
wished even harder. She hoped that when she looked up Julie
would be gone and that she would be twenty-three and thin
again. If her wish came true she could have anyone she wanted
including her husband... ex-husband.
“I want a baby.” thought Donna. Her eyes went back to Julie
and she wrinkled her nose as if she smelt expired milk. Now
that Julie was seven, she has ceased to be cute. Donna could see
that she would grow up to be plain. She knew Julie was ugly
because Donna had stopped receiving compliments.
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No one praised her for pumping out a soft, chubby baby. People
just saw a sticky, plain child and moved on. No bassinets, no
pink ribbons, no one wanting to touch her tummy rolls... that
kind of touching was only reserved for gloriously hard, bulbous
and very pregnant bellies. No compliments on her glow during
baby showers, no massages from Ivan and no one asking her in
the elevator when she was due. All of that was gone and Donna
was left with a plain, sticky child. She wanted a baby this
time. Not a child. No one cares about a child after they turn
five. They stop being cute. They talk, ask questions and whine.
Their cheeks deflate, their limbs grow and their nose turns out
like Julie’s.
IV
“Hey Greg! I had fun last week and hope to see you again for a
second date.” Donna’s fingers itched to press the call button but
tried to be content with just a text. However, impatience is like
a razor burn. You can’t help it until you scratch every single
molecular level of dryness. She pressed the call button. Voicemail.
She called again. Maybe he was in the bathroom?
“I’m sorry the number you are trying to reach is not in service. Please
check the number and try your call again,” replied a monotone
voice.
II
Donna swiped right. She liked Greg. His profile said six feet
one, loves dogs and philosophy. Donna only knew enough philosophy
to pass her exam during her first year at university.
Who has the time to read philosophy after they get married,
especially when one has a kid? Donna looked up from her
phone to Julie. Her daughter was watching YouTube quietly
on her iPad.
III
“My divorce was brutal,” said Greg after a sip a whiskey. “I just
felt so empty after Naila left, you know. I don’t know what went
wrong. It was just wrong. My kids are surely fucked up but I
just wanna move on you know?”
“I know exactly what you mean. It’s already so hard to connect
with someone but when you do-life gets in the way, you know
like kids and responsibilities,” said Donna.
“Oh yeah! My kids drive me nuts.” “Same.” “You wanna get
outta here?” asked Greg. Donna nodded and they went to a
motel.
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
“Mom, what’s for lunch?” asked Julie as she came into the living
room. Donna did not reply. She was busy concentrating on
Greg’s Instagram. She wanted to make sure not to tap on any
picture. Julie went to the kitchen cabinet and took out a big bag
of Cheetos and began munching. She turned on SpongeBob
but after a few minutes her iPad died.
“Mom, where did you put the charger?”
It was not a good time to ask that question because the moment
Julie did, Donna accidently tapped on a picture posted in
After an hour of scrolling her phone died. She closed her eyes
and thought of Ivan and Greg, shifting from one memory to
the next. She felt contented and comforted for a little while
in her memories but then opened her eyes. The blue darkness
enveloped around her. In that moment she never felt so lonely,
used and stuck. Silent tears began to slide and then she began
to wail.
VI
Donna’s days just passed by. Hours didn’t really matter. The
most she did was cook but not very elaborate meals. Eggs, pasta
or hummus on white bread. She took long, hot showers but
they only helped for an hour or two. The worst part was falling
asleep. She thought about Ivan and Greg and immediately
burst into tears.
She finished her hourly scrolling before bed. Someone bought
a new car, had a barbeque picnic in the park, married, baby,
graduation, new job...
2018.
“Fuck!” Cold sweat broke out on Donna’s back and her fingers
began to shake. She immediately unliked the picture but did
not know how much damage was done. Fear turned into anger.
Donna stomped towards Julie, grabbed her iPad and flung it to
the wall.
V
Donna checked her phone. It had been two weeks since her date
with Greg. He didn’t get back to her. She was in bed scrolling
through Instagram. TikTok memes echoed in her room.
When she clicked off her phone, she was again enveloped in
the blue darkness of her bedroom. She waited to fall asleep but
ended up making scenarios in her head, shifting from memory
to fiction. Her heart sank. She became anxious when she
opened her eyes and remembered where she was.
The tears silently slid this time but were followed by choking
sounds of hysteria and panic. She did not hear Julie enter
her bedroom while she cried. The seven-year-old turned on the
lamp, filling Donna’s room with yellowish pink light. The child
climbed in bed with her ailing mother and put her right hand
on Donna’s forehead. In her left hand was a book. Julie’s thumb
was between page one and page two. She read, “In a hole in the
ground there lived a hobbit...” and in between each word read
by Julie, Donna sobbed a little less until she drifted to sleep
dreaming of dragons.
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VOLUME FIVE ISSUE THREE.
MARGINS.
Visual Credits: Giulio Fabi
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06.23.2023 @WTCMARGINS
UTSC WOMEN’S AND TRANS CENTRE
margins
Magazine
UTSC Women’s and Trans Centre
In-House Publication