i03 Reflection
AZN Zine - Issue 03: Reflection
AZN Zine - Issue 03: Reflection
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a reminder that you are beautiful and loved
welcome to
the third issue,
reflection
PHOTOS BY
BRANDON ENG
Caesar Soledad
@caes.theday
Self-confidence to me is being proud of what you already have in your life & having the audacity to deem it is enough, despite
what others or society may say is lacking. Nothing is lacking. Only the ability to recognize, build on it & appreciate it all. Even
the parts we may not like right now. Self-confidence is a profound life’s work to tell the world who you really are & how you
make a difference to those around you. It may not come easy sometimes, but nothing good ever really does.
Mimi Lee
@officialsenza_
BEING CONFIDENT
DOESN’T ONLY APPLY TO YOUR CURRENT SELF;
IT’S ALSO ABOUT BELIEVING IN YOUR ABILITY TO GROW
photos by
claire son
I DO NOT REMEMBER
MY ROOTS
BY KAYLIN MOSS
No, no, I don’t want one, you pleaded. As if you
had a choice. Are you sure? Your hair will be so
long, she insisted. You heard beautiful, and were
confused. You were not sure; you were adamant.
The stupidity of her question left you dumb-
founded. Don’t put your hand on active stove
eyes, don’t look directly at the sun, don’t set fire
to your hair.
Didn’t your mom get you a perm
Child, you got some thick hair
Your hair is too nappy
Didn’t your mom get
Child, you got
Your hair
Didn’t
Child
Mommy, I want a relaxer, you said. You did
want one, your desire was genuine. You listened
to their lies and deceived yourself. Later, you
would learn, you just wanted the words to stop.
Beauty hurts, but assimilation sears. As your hair
ignited, the words burned too. The beautician’s
chair was the kind of plastic that screeched with
every minute movement you made. Your hair-
dresser spewed garbage and contributed to the
salon’s cacophony of untruths. By the time you
reached 7th grade, you thought your hair had
stopped growing. You didn’t realize it was your
psyche that was stunted. Stunted, but alive. Living
paycheck to paycheck was survival. Your mother
wanted you to thrive. Language was another cru-
cial role in your assimilation. Your mother taught
you ebonics then banned it. This language could
@JUSTCHILLKAY
not be spoken at home, and soon you forgot how
to speak it. A mirror reflected your chalky image.
Your mother beamed. A perfect fit.
“YOU DIDN’T REALIZE IT
WAS YOUR PSYCHE THAT
WAS STUNTED. STUNTED,
BUT ALIVE.”
Your mother taught you life emerges from
flames. Each day was scalding. You set your iden-
tity ablaze and poured it into a porcelain mold.
The remaining hours were spent asleep. Racism
and discrimination were like the murmur of a
television show on low volume. The Star Spangled
Banner was deafening. Racists were red-
necks in rural towns. The Confederate Flag was
in textbooks, not your middle class suburbia.
When prejudice came from a black person, your
porcelain shattered.
At lunch, when your friend asked you what
classes you’d be taking the next semester, you replied
with honors this, and honors that. The caf-
eteria: where belly laughs and smacking mouths
masked the segregation. A stranger with a strang-
er posse strode past the whites only sign, and
stopped at your table. She blurted, “You taking
those white people classes? You’re like an oreo,
black on the outside, white on the inside.” Each
smug syllable was accompanied by a swish of her
waist length braids. You heard an insult, and were
confused. You heard high academic performance
wasn’t in the definition of authentic blackness,
you heard your experience was invalid, you heard
you couldn’t exist without sacrificing your skin.
Well, ain’t you got something to say, she spat.
A millenia elapsed, and, still, you didn’t have a
response. She extinguished your internal hellfire
in that small eternity. The bell rang. The moment
whizzed by. You tried to relight your fire but were
left with embers. You attempted to pour yourself
back into porcelain. You remembered the mold
was beyond repair. You couldn’t recall what else
occured at school that day. At home you rushed
to the bathroom mirror. You rubbed off the
chalky exterior. You severed all your scorched
strands. You marveled in your reflection. You
stopped wishing you were white. You questioned
everything. How does race affect how you perceive
yourself? Why do you have a narrow defini-
tion of blackness? In that moment in the cafeteria,
you wish you could’ve told the girl with the long
braids, “This is what a black girl looks like”.
“YOU TRIED TO RELIGHT
YOUR FIRE BUT WERE LEFT
WITH EMBERS.”
PINK MOON
NEW YORK, US
Sustainable and eco-conscious
self care products, ranging
from natural toothpastes
to facial cleansers.
@pinkmoon.co
www.pinkmoon.co
XYZ STYLE CO
SEATTLE, US
Queer-owned shop on Etsy
selling handmade earrings
with fun and unique designs.
@xyzstyleco
Etsy: XYZstyleco
SMALL BUSINESSES
URS
MALAYSIA
Ecological artisan oil blends.
Their ultra-nourishing “muse”
body and hair oil is 100% natural.
@urs.my
CHUGI WEAR
INDONESIA
Hand-illustrated satin, glossy
scarves with colorful and
abstract designs.
@chugiwear
Shopee: chugiwear
STRANGE BIRD
US
Natural beauty products with
the aim of making skincare a
spiritual experience.
@strangebirdbeauty
www.strangebirdbeauty.com
LYRA’S LABEL
INDONESIA
Vegan, cruelty-free, and
ethically sourced lip glosses
with 10% of profits going to
a chosen charity.
@lyraslabel.id
TO SUPPORT
DAINTY KLAWS
CALIFORNIA, US
Handmade gel-x press on nails.
They accept custom designs
and you can even choose the
shape and length to your
preference!
@daintyklaws
KYRA & ASH
HAWAII, US
Their flower and bead rings are
both affordable and adorable.
They have cute designs and a
pastel color palette.
@kyraandash
WHAT MAKES YO
“I’m confident when what
I’m wearing is super comfy.”
- @garywu22
“My friends and
faith hyping me
up!” - Taylor Yee
U CONFIDENT
“My confidence comes from my family, friends,
and loves one and their constant support
throughout my daily life.” - Nathan Wong
Photos taken by Toby Wong
Art by Grace Lee (@gc.jl)
Beauty
in the
Details
My grandma will never let you leave her house empty handed.
Whether it’s the leftovers from a meal, a mishmash of snacks from
the basket near the kitchen table, or a drink from the mini fridge in
the living room, she will lovingly guilt you into taking something out
the door.
One of my favorite things to do when I go over is seeing the
new array of food she collected throughout the week: Hawaiian Host
chocolates, a bagel from Ralphs, and some crispy cauliflower veggie
chips. When I sit down at the kitchen table, I am instantly surrounded
with my choice of sweet and savory goodies. Despite her own love
of food, I recently noticed she is always the last one to sit down at
the table for a meal. I never really thought too much about it.
By Amanda Young
Her ability to scope out her grandkids’ favorite snacks translates
easily into more than just a gift of giving food. It is woven into the
details of handwritten cards and anecdotes from simpler times. It is
found in the way she remembers those that have passed, and the
way she continues sharing their legacy to make us all relive their stories
time and time again.
This ability to see a moment in its details
is the kind of beauty I admire.
There is something so beautiful about pushing pause on the life
reel to remember a detailed moment from yesterday. It does not abide
by the fast-paced algorithm characteristic of the information-flooded
society we live in. But it is the type of beauty that is often only seen in
hindsight. Missing it can lead to bittersweet memories, but seeing it
leads to an enriched view on life.
My grandma holds so much beauty in the posture she takes
towards loving others. When she remembered the way my face lit up
after eating an Okinawan sweet potato manju, I found a casing with
three perfectly untouched manjus waiting for me every time I went
over afterwards. When I sent her a blog post, she would respond back
by email with words laced in love and carefully chosen praise.
If the world associated beauty with this type
of posture, I could only imagine the type of
relationships we would be able to reconcile.
Details are sometimes deemed unnecessary. They clog our writing,
our speeches, our PowerPoints. We are always told to keep things
brief and to the point. There is a time and a space for brevity and
simple memos. But what about those that write flowery things not for
the sake of filling space but for the sake of sharing a single moment’s
emotion? We lose a fuller story of unseen beauty when we cut the
“unnecessary details.” Beauty is more than just a physical icon or an
awe-struck moment; it is the stepping off the mindless train of distraction
to love with careful attention to the details.
VALERIE LAU
BE AU
TY
C R
U S
A
E
D
By Jessica Zhang
"write down something you love about yourself."
a simple task greeted with blank stares. uncomfortable grimaces mingled
with almost apologetic sighs. we all easily dish out fruitful flattery
we adore about one another, but when it comes to ourselves, the plate
seems to have been scraped clean. in a culture that serves cocktails of
praised models that represent one size for all concocted with "all bodies
are beautiful," it's almost hard not to become drunk on comparison and
intoxicated with self-deprecation. but perhaps we'd rather see everything
through a tipsy lens because we cannot bear to see ourselves
sober. you see, i was once told to "accept the things i cannot change
and change the things i cannot accept" - if my body is not a permanent
concrete structure, why would i not try to alter it? my body is an altar
where sacrifices are willingly made to fulfill the worship of an image
society has deemed to be godly. if my body is a temple, media has defaced
it with laid commandments. i feel obligated to follow such rules
regardless of whether an idol has been placed in a sacred place, as an
intruder might make themselves comfortable in my bedroom. we have
become the generation obsessed with exchanging sanity for vanity, enthralled
with the art of being both the sculptor and the sculpted in some
sickening showcase in which one neither appears to be the master or
the masterpiece when the curtain finally falls. as starving artists, we
convince ourselves that the cause we suffer for will turn us into something
worthy of being placed on a pedestal, as if we were never fed
enough bullshit already.
Christina Pan
Clarisse Lee
Co-Founders
Haneul Ryou
Head of Writing
Cami Kuruma
Head of Design
Angelica Marie Bautista
Head of Socials
AZN TEAM
Aubrey Unemori
Esther Kim
Kayla Kim
Nadya Azzahra
Pranav Brahmbhatt
Rebecca Yong
Steve Zhang
Adeline Yu
Aerielle Ong
Brenda Nguyen
Emily Quah
Emma Yang
Ira SwatiManish
Sara Lowe
Theresa Lee
Brandon Eng
Ryan Sun
Anjali Patel
Elan You
Erica Dionara
Gitanjali Samayamantula
Reyna Revina
Writers
Designers
Photographers
Socials
Amanda Young
Claire Son
Grace Lee
@gc.jl
Jessica Zhang
@jesszhng
Kaylin Moss
@justchillkay
Toby Wong
@tobywong.png
Valerie Lau
@valeriechiaralau
CONTRIBUTORS
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