Podcast on "The Flow of Dance" and "Living Like Lima"

December 7, 2017

By Ariana Barrett and Ginny Bixby

Too Short, Too Fat: Barred From Ballet

December 7, 2017

HOW THE BODY STANDARDS OF THE DANCE INDUSTRY KEEP TALENTED DANCERS FROM DEVELOPING PROFESSIONAL CAREERS

By Ariana Barrett and Ginny Bixby

Training as a dancer at the same dance studio from age three through high school, Victoria Larimer knew she loved dance more than anything. But she knew from early on that she could never be a professional dancer. It wasn’t because of a lack of talent. It was because she wasn’t thin.

No one had to tell her overtly. She just felt it when a teacher warned her not to get too excited about becoming a dancer when she was older.

“I remember when one teacher told me that I really wasn't ever going to be able to make it far, so unless I was really serious about just doing it for fun, then I should stop dancing,” said Larimer, now 19.

She felt it when she was left out by her peers when they went off to hang out together.

“Cliques developed among some of the skinnier girls, and I was left out of that,” she said. There were some other girls who looked more like Larimer did, but most of them left as they got older and found other hobbies. Larimer was one of the last ones standing as she entered high school.

Costumes never fit her, either. She remembers getting upset when she’d try on costumes and they didn’t fit or look right.

“My mother usually had to alter the costumes with fabric we had at home so they could fit me,” she said. “It was hard because choreographers sometimes didn’t consider body type. I didn’t look the same as the other girls in the costumes.”

Larimer suffers from polycystic ovary syndrome and hypothyroidism, which makes it hard for her to lose weight, since she has insulin resistance and a very low metabolism. But she continued to stick with dancing for fun.

She is one of many dancers with nontraditional body shapes who is calling for the culture of dance to change.

While other industries, such as gymnastics, seem to have started valuing a muscular, strong build over a thin one, the majority of dance companies still tend to value the “Balanchine body”, or tend to emulate the Russian ballet trend that also prefers tall, thin ballerinas that are extremely flexible. A few dance companies have tried to move forward. While petite, renowned ballerina Misty Copeland is known for being more muscular than the typical dancer. While the trend of being emaciated and thin is starting to fade in some sects of the dance industry, it is still standard to be very slim.

There were many points when Larimer became discouraged, and wondered if she should quit dance altogether. “I was constantly being told by one of my teachers and a few of my classmates that I wasn't going to be able to get the roles that I wanted because of the way I looked,” she said, knowing that she didn’t look like the other girls in their costumes and photos.

Larimer said that she never expected to get the roles she wanted in ballet. “It was harder for me to get cast in roles because they constantly told me that I was too short to play a certain role and they told me that I wasn’t allowed to be in any kind of pas de deux pieces because I was too heavy to be lifted.”

Larimer spoke of a rumor that went around her studio: the cast list done before any of the dancers even audition. “They typecast people for certain roles depending on the way that they look ethnically, the way that they look height wise, the way they would look in a costume.”

“You tend to get put into a certain role every single year and there's certain roles that were labeled the roles for the lame people or the bad people,” said Larimer. “They created a role that was never in the original Nutcracker for the people who were injured, or the people who they didn't think were good enough. There were certain people that were posed as favorites because they had that certain ballet look.”

This was crushing for Larimer. “It just really was kind of difficult because you go into the audition being excited for whatever role you've been dreaming since you were a kid,” she said. “Everyone dreams of being Clara in the Nutcracker once in their life but it’s kind of disappointing going into the audition knowing that you're not going to get it, that it's reserved for someone else.”

There were times the pressure of dancing led to much more serious problems for Larimer.

“This all led me to go through certain times in my life where I was anorexic for a while. I went through those battles and it never really changed how I looked, but I was just so unhealthy,” she said. Larimer began her battle with anorexia at just seven years old, when a classmate told her that her mom said ‘fat people were terrible at dancing’.

She began giving away her lunches at school and nibbling on vegetables until her mother and dance teacher noticed and explained to her how she was hurting herself. Although she was able to recover, she still faced struggles. “As I got older, I had a few minor relapses due to pressure to meet certain body standards. Anorexia is really an uphill battle,” said Larimer.

While dance was what prompted her eating disorder, her dance teacher helped her get out of it. “I did have a teacher who was always very supportive of anyone who wanted to dance,” said Larimer. “She realized what was going on and she told me that I didn’t need to look exactly like the other girls. She told me that it’s important to remember that dance is about expressing yourself and telling a story through your movements.”

While Larimer is not studying dance, she is in a dance company at her university.

“Dance is always going to be part of my life,” said Larimer who loves the exercise and destress sessions that come along with dancing. Although she is not pursuing a career in dance, she would like to do public relations for the dance world, “I might not be able to be a dancer, but I could still have dance as part of my career.”

The pressures that Larimer faced are also familiar to Lori Bryant, a high school teacher who teaches dance on the side, who in the summer of 1990 was 16 years old and obsessed with ballet.

When she was given the opportunity to attend the Joffrey Ballet’s intensive program in New York City, she took it with no hesitations. She would live there for two and half months and spend her days dancing. At the end of the summer they put on a showcase where her parents would come to see what she’s been working on. But what they saw was something they weren’t expecting.

Their daughter had drastically dropped weight, weighing only 86 pounds at the age of 16. They told her she was never coming back to New York again.

This was Bryant’s first time at a professional company and she felt she had to keep up with the image of the other girls. She describes herself as short, standing at only 5-foot-2 but curvy, as opposed to the tall, lean build most professional dancers have. Joffrey didn’t care much about the height of the dancers, but they did care about their weight, so Bryant decreased her caloric intake, attempting only to eat fruits and vegetables that didn’t have any fat.

“I can remember one of my coaches saying that she wanted to see our bones. So, when that is the directive you do what you can to show them that and if that means becoming anorexic or bulimic then that's what people do,” said Bryant. Eating disorders are 10 times more likely to occur in dancers as they strive to reach an unhealthy perfection, sometimes resulting in death.

Bryant is now a ballet teacher at the Virginia Beach Conservatory of Dance and she sees a lot less judgment between the girls than how it used to be. “It’s never about the image,” Bryant said when talking about her students, “it’s about flexibility.” She feels that all her students have the potential to succeed in ballet, now that body image is less of a concern.

She is confident that ballet is moving in the right direction. She has enrolled her daughter Kennedy in dance classes since she was three years old, not worried that she will become concerned about her body image. “I think because I went through the experience I would be able to talk to her, particularly about body image and as her dance teacher,” said Bryant.

Bryant spoke of one of her students named Mary, who is 165 pounds: “She is graceful and she works with what she's got and we are really accepting of all body types.”

Bryant was able to trump her insecurities of weight by focusing on her confidence and excellence in the art of ballet.

While dancers throughout history were typically thin, there were a few occasional exceptions, such as celebrated ballerina Maria Taglioni. Taglioni was a dancer for Her Majesty’s Theatre in London and the Paris Opera Ballet among other companies in the mid 19th century. She was short, curvy and muscular. Taglioni has been regarded as one of the greatest dancers of our time.

But in the 20th century, that all changed. Choreographer George Balanchine is largely credited with creating the concept of an ideal body type for a dancer. In the 1960s, he began to only cast extremely thin, tall dancers in his ballets. This especially became true when he began working with dancer Suzanne Farrell and wanted his dancers to emulate her slight, long-legged physique. Balanchine, who founded the New York City Ballet, was such an influential choreographer that his casting choices began to influence other dance companies and choreographers.

In an article called “The Cult Of Thin” written by Deirdre Kelly for Dance Magazine in 2016, Kelly details how when she visited dancers performing a ballet choreographed by George Balanchine, she was disturbed by dancers complaining of hunger and feeling that they were going to faint. Former New York City Ballet dancer Gelsey Kirkland blamed Balanchine for her battles with anorexia, bulimia, and drug addiction in her 1996 book “Dancing On My Grave”, saying that she felt intense pressure from the choreographer to become unhealthily thin and that he liked to see their bones.

In 1996, Suzanne Abraham conducted a study comparing characteristics of anorexia nervosa and bulimia nervosa between ballet dancers and their non-dancing peers. She found that the dancers had higher scores on an Eating Attitudes Test and were more likely to have an eating disorder by the standards of the DSM-3-R than their peers. She concluded that dancers were at a higher risk of developing eating disorders than the general population.

More recently, in a 2013 study, John Arcelus, Gemma Whitcomb, and Alex Mitchell found that 12 percent of the dancers they studied had eating disorders, and that number was even higher in ballet dancers specifically- 16.4 percent. They concluded that dancers were at a three times higher risk of suffering from anorexia and other types of eating disorders than the general population.

Jeanette Hiyama first started being noticed for her dancing abilities at the age of four.

“I started dancing at a local studio at the beginning. My teachers said I had potential and they encouraged my mom to have me try out for the Washington School of Ballet which is the school attached to the Washington Ballet,” she recalled.

But her mother thought it was too soon for Hiyama to get so intensely involved in dance at such a young age. When Hiyama was seven, she was studying at a different studio, and the teachers there also thought she should try out for the Washington School of Ballet. So at the age of eight, her mother finally let her audition. She got into the school and danced there through her senior year of high school.

“I started out dancing one day a week and by the time I was at the highest levels of the school I was dancing six or seven days a week for a minimum of three hours a day,” she said. “It was pretty intense but I liked always being busy and it helped me work really hard on my dancing.”

Hiyama was always on the smaller end of her classmates, but it didn’t become an issue until she was older and was able to try out for parts in ballet productions. She never got the parts she wanted even though she was stronger than some of the dancers who were cast in those roles.

“They told me I didn’t have the nice long legs everyone thinks a dancer is supposed to have. I was always told, ‘You can’t dance this role because you’re not this height, you won’t be able to make it as a professional in the dance world,” she said.

She also was held back longer than other dancers from being moved up to the different levels of the school. She was going to be held back in level seven, the last level before the pre-professional program, for a fourth year, and she felt that she was a stronger dancer than some of the students that got bumped ahead of her. She decided to confront her teachers about it.

“I approached two of my teachers and asked why I was being held back. They told me part of it definitely had to do with my height, and they said that even though they knew it was something I couldn’t control, they still take it into consideration.”

Hiyama didn’t really struggle with her weight, but one particular instance stuck with her.

“Once another girl and I had to take turns being lifted by a guy in an audition for the ballet Alice in Wonderland. He couldn’t lift me, and I was upset. After that, I started eating less.”

She said she didn’t think her restriction of her food intake was extreme enough to be considered a full-on eating disorder, but her dad and some of her friends at the studio became worried about her. She felt that she always had to be somewhat conscious about her weight. Her friends actually went to one of the teachers and told her they were worried about Hiyama.

Over time, some of Hiyama’s teachers told her that she might be able to make it as a soloist in a ballet company, but it was still a very slim chance and that she would never be able to perform as part of the ensemble in ballets, called the corps de ballet.

“As I got older, I knew I really wanted to become a professional dancer. The more that people said it was unrealistic for me, the more I felt discouraged from trying to join a company,” she said.

Similarly to Larimer, she also continues to dance for the University of Mary Washington’s Performing Arts Company.

Although Hiyama is no longer a member of the Washington Ballet, she still dances there for fun sometimes, no longer worried about a teacher’s criticism. “I think things need to change because dance is a way of expression and I don’t think at this point that your body has to get in the way of that,” said Hiyama who is looking forward to instilling these ideas in future dancers.

Something else disturbed Hiyama. She noticed the messages the dance world sends to children about body image when she was helping with auditions for the Washington School of Ballet.

“They definitely single out kids as young as five and decide they cannot make it in dance because of their body type. The judges have this weird point system from 1-5, and while they look at lots of different things like technique and feet, if you get a 2 or lower in any category, you’re out.”

She said that she saw children who definitely had potential, and it upset her when they weren’t chosen because of their body type, especially since they were so young. “For these kids, so many things will happen between now and when they hit puberty,” she said. “But I wasn’t in the place where I could say anything, and even if I could, it wouldn’t have swayed anything.”

The day results came out, Jeanette was working in the company’s office when the calls came in.

“So many parents were calling us asking why their kids didn’t get in. Having to explain to a parent why their kid wasn’t chosen was ridiculous. I don’t know what the director really told those parents. I don’t know if she told them if it was because of their kids’ bodies. But I remember thinking, ‘What are we doing? What message are we sending to kids about dance?’”

On a small scale, some studios and companies are moving forward to reinforce the idea of healthy and positive body image and are accepting to many body types, such as the studio Bryant works at. Some have even started requiring a minimum weight if they suspect disordered eating. But the majority of the dance industry still requires a certain height and weight and sometimes even race; often prioritizing certain physical qualities over talent.

The dance industry continues to be controversial in its standards and values in regards to dancers’ bodies, however, if the small amount of change occurring can be magnified and dancers like Larimer, Bryant, and Hiyama keep speaking out, it could spark a revolution in the world of dance.

Living Like Lima

December 7, 2017

How living like a Victoria's Secret model changed my life (style).

By Ariana Barrett

Adriana Lima in the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show throughout the years.

The Victoria Secret fashion show blared on the T.V. as my roommates and I sat on the floor watching with jealous eyes at the dozens of beautiful women parading the stage. We were shoveling chicken Lo Mein into our mouths as we questioned “why don’t we look like that?”

Although it was rhetorical, I took a step back and looked at myself: I’m relatively thin but that’s definitely constructed of flab, not muscle. I came to the conclusion that I have a bad lifestyle, I’m stuck in a comfortable routine that made me want a nap when I thought of changing it.

Ever since I turned 18 I’ve been a waitress and a college student, which means long nights and sleeping late. I sleep through breakfast and my lunch usually consist of a bag of whatever from a vending machine, leaving me starving for dinner where I would eat huge portions of Hamburger Helper or Kraft Mac and Cheese. Along with my bad eating habits I’m also stuck in the perpetual cycle of napping that I constantly choose in place of going to the gym, making my daily runs, weekly.

Victoria Secret models are known for having some of the most attractive bodies in the world, but with that comes rigorous diet and exercise. I’m not aspiring to become a model but holding myself to such a high standard is just the motivation I need. In order to shock myself into a strict routine, I decided to live like Adriana Lima, Victoria Secret’s most notable model. Adriana Lima has been one of the longest running models for Victoria’s Secret and was back on the stage in less than a month after giving birth to her children. She’s pretty bad ass. For one week, I’ll live like this 36-year-old mom of two. But it’s not just any week, a week in preparation for a show – when she’s hardest on herself.

Adriana Lima in the 2016 Victoria Secret Fashion Show.

The first step in my experiment was researching her diet and trying my best to mimic it. I set out to the grocery store to gather my meals for the next week and for the first time I actually realized how hard this was going to be. I was walking past everything I wanted to buy but couldn’t because it wasn’t a part of my diet. Temptation was definitely going to be my biggest enemy when I had to reject cartons of chocolate ice cream and a family size box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I got less food than I usually do when I grocery shop but I ended up spending more money; I never realized how expensive fresh fruit and vegetables cost because I usually get all of mine from the frozen section.

The Diet:

· For breakfast, Adriana has egg whites, black coffee with milk, and oatmeal with raisins (I think raisons are disgusting so I will be substituting those with real fruit)

· For lunch, Adriana has a small piece of chicken or fish and a side of steamed vegetables.

· For dinner, Adriana has a salad.

· In between meals she eats raw vegetables and nuts as a snack.

· She also consumes at least a gallon of water a day.

The Exercise:

Adriana works out twice a day; once in the morning and once in the evening. They consist of high intensity interval training (HIIT) and body weight resistance strength training. She uses little to no machines or weights in her workouts, but instead focuses on body sculpting workouts, such as lunges, planks, running, and push-ups.

Adriana Lima in preparation for the fashion show.

Day 1: Not off to a good start.

The night before I even started the experiment I freaked out when setting my alarm and couldn’t bring myself to set it for 6 a.m. so I set it for 7 a.m., which was a bad idea because when my alarm went off I stared at the wall for 15 minutes contemplating why I was even doing this, but nevertheless I eventually got up and made myself breakfast. I don’t get hungry when I first wake up so it was difficult having breakfast be the largest meal of the day, but I made myself eat all of it in preparation for the busy day ahead of me.

Because I decided to sleep in for an hour I had no time to let my food digest before I was off to the gym for an hour long work out before class. But unfortunately, I wasn’t even able to complete my very first work out before throwing up my whole breakfast.

After throwing up everything in me, I was starving and thankful for snack time. I had celery and carrots as a snack before lunch and BLEH! Who knew celery only tasted good after eating hot wings? My grilled chicken, steamed vegetable lunch was decent, but not very flavorful.

The second workout of the day was a slow start because my head was pounding from not having taken a nap already. Usually when I got those headaches I can drink a soda or coffee to subside it but that wasn’t an option today. But the worst part of the day was having to eat a salad for dinner; a salad isn’t much when you’re used to eating it as an appetizer. I had to quickly put myself to sleep before I got hungry again.

Day 2: I cheated.

I woke up and could barely move because I was so sore from my ab sculpting workout; everyday activities became a struggle. Sneezing was the biggest hurdle to jump over; every time I felt like I had to sneeze I would do something to combat it just so I didn’t have to clench my abdomen. My morning gym session was better today because I learned to let my food digest but just getting my body down to the mats took a lot out of me.

When it was time to eat, I never craved food so much in my life. I was willing to eat anything salty and greasy so none of my meals were satisfying. I got my afternoon headache again and I gave into my temptations and got Starbucks and it was SO GOOD. But I felt guilty for cheating and willingly ate my salad for dinner with no complaints.

Day 3: Skipped the gym.

I wasn’t able to go to the gym in the morning because I stayed up until 4 a.m. writing a paper and it felt so good to sleep in. It was hard to get out of bed because my muscles somehow managed to get even more sore, which I didn’t even think was possible.

When it came time to eat I realized how bored I’ve grown of my meals. I want cheese on my eggs, ranch with my carrots, and anything but salad for dinner. I only like Caesar dressing on my salads so my dinner lacked variety, like many other parts of this experiment it was just something I had to get used to. But I was considering my dinner options, is taco salad considered a salad?

Day 4: I see the results.

I have never taken so many bathroom breaks before because I’ve never drank so much water. I wish I have been this whole time because my stomach has gotten flatter and my skin has cleared up a lot; I feel rejuvenated.

But I feel like the biggest accomplishment of all is that my headaches that long for caffeine or napping have subsided. It’s like I’ve broken free from the shackles that were hindering my productivity. I don’t feel so sluggish throughout the day anymore and I am able to get more work done.

While the afternoon workouts are becoming a breeze, the morning workouts never seem to get easier. This is most likely owed to my lack of sleep. Having a schedule that requires you to wake up early is difficult when you’re up late getting school work done. I was always able to compromise my late nights but scheduling afternoon classes, giving me time to sleep in.

Day 5: Thank God, it’s over.

I woke up excited that this was my last time I had to eat breakfast and work out in the morning. The gym in the morning is full of a people who take working out seriously so I looked ridiculous when I only worked out for five minutes before needing a break. The afternoon is much better because there are less people judging you.

I went home to see my parents for the weekend and I couldn’t resist my mom’s homemade pizza so I ditched the salad for dinner and I have no regrets, I think I’ve earned it.

Adriana Lima in the 2016 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show.

I have a newfound respect for these models. Even though their job is to just be beautiful, their self-discipline is impressive. I think that if this was my job, then I could definitely commit to the lifestyle.

I like being healthy and feeling good, but I have too much on my plate. It was really hard being a student and having a strict schedule. But I do think there are some things that will change now that I’ve tried this experiment. By going to the gym twice a day, the once a day won’t seem like such a struggle anymore and I definitely am more conscious about what I eat.

I learned that going to the gym immediately after class and getting it over with was the best way to consistently stick with it instead of going home and being tempted by my couch. Although I probably won’t continue to eat in the mornings, I did like getting in the habit of eating lunch because it energized me throughout the day and I didn’t have to eat such a big dinner.

It’s never too late to start living a healthier life, but it does help to start young.

Letters and Kelp: Podcast

December 7, 2017

Concerts Causing Concern

December 7, 2017

Why your favorite artist might be secretly trying to kill you.

By: Sara Bolanos

I went to my first concert when I was 12 years old. When The Jonas Brother ascended from their hidden door underneath the stage my heart nearly stopped. I didn’t even have a real seat, just a blanket on the lawn. It was July 29th 2009, and I grabbed my friends hand so hard she was screaming at me to let go. Every thought I had, every worry that clouded my mind was instantly erased when the music to S.O.S or whatever Jonas Brother song they opened with hit the first note.

Thus began my not so slow decent into a concert obsession. In my high school life I went to over 20 concerts in three years, all of which took place in D.C. or another major city such as Pittsburg, Philadelphia, New York, and Baltimore. My friends and I were always given a set of rules to follow. Always travel in pairs. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t take drinks from strangers. Don’t drink and drive. In fact just be careful of the drunk drivers when coming home from a concert. In spite all the warnings, I never felt unsafe at a concert. It was a place of refuge. I always felt at home. I guess music had the ability to do that to people, bring them together that is.

But in recent years all of that has changed. I was studying in Wales the time of the Manchester attacks. My friend came up to me crying, she had been trying to get in touch with her friend all night, her friend was supposed to be at the concert and wasn’t replying to her. She ended up being fine, but it was still scary. What our parents never thought about warning us about was what to do if there was a terrorist attack at a concert. Five months later I forgot to put my phone on silent as I went to sleep. I was awoken to non-stop dinging. The updates kept coming in, 20 dead, 25 dead, unknown number dead at a Las Vegas concert. Tthere was a sinking feeling in my gut that it wouldn’t be the last time I heard about an attack at a concert.

I was planning on going to an ‘The All-American Rejects’ concert in a few weeks. I wondered how I would feel, being back at concerts after all these attacks and knowing what has happened in the past few months.

* * *

Dear friend of mine and Longwood Student Isabela Naccarato was in D.C. at the Harry Styles concert the same night as Las Vegas. I remeber recalling that she was at a concert and before I knew where the shooting had happened I had called her at least a dozen times to make sure she was OK. Upon leaving she heard the news from her mom who had called her after hearing that there was a shooting at a concert.

“I kept thinking about if anything about the harry concert was different, if anyone was acting strange or if anything didn’t seem right,” Naccarato said. “Something like this can happen anywhere to anyone, but the fact that i was at a concert at the same time something so terrible was happening across the country really puts things into perspective. There’s nothing you can do to prevent it you can only be aware of your surroundings.”

Shas been to over 50 concerts and never thought that her place of safety would become a hot spot for terrorists’ attacks. “I’m definitely going to be more cautious considering everything that has happened recently,” Naccarto said. “Concerts are a place for happiness and to let go of any worries you may have. No one should be scared to see their favorite artist live.”

The chances of being killed in a terrorist related attack are 1 in 20 million, according to FBI data base. So while it’s not exactly irrational to fear concerts it is unlikely. In recent concerts have been an identified as a ‘soft target’ for terrorists. A soft target is an area that is relatively unprotected, and if you compare security at the White House to the security at a concert it does have less protection. However studies show that the aim of these attacks at concerts and similar events are made to do what their groups sound like—which is to instill terror.

* * *

I went to the concern as planned. What first struck me was how different this venue was, but how safe I felt. What I noticed second was that there didn’t seem to be much more security at all. Perhaps it was because Richmond didn’t seem like a hot enough target to amp up safety measures. There was an eclectic mix of what seemed to be young adults reliving their angsty adolescence. Despite what had happened less than a month ago, they didn’t seem nervous either. The lights dimmed and that familiar feeling in my chest from 9 years ago began to rise. The energy of crowd started to get excited and with the first note of the band, every worry was washed away with the music.

You must be Latina enough to enter

December 7, 2017

Figured out what it means to be part of this members only club.

By: Sara Bolanos

During my sophomore year was around the time I should have been planning my quinceañera. For a Latina a quinceañera is the equivalent to a sweet 16, but more on a wedding size scale, it could put all those 'my super sweet 16' shows to shame. A couple of other girls I knew already had theirs. They wore big pink princess dresses. They had a court of ladies and men to dance, sort of like a bridal party and groomsmen. There was always tons of music and food. The celebration was meant to signify a Latina girl’s transition from childhood into adulthood. The ceremony, which entails the father removing the girl’s flat shoe and replacing it with a high heel is always emotional, and someone always cries. For some families parents start planning it from the moment their daughter is born.

But I wasn’t planning mine. The reason was that I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. I remember the moment I had started questioning it. When I was in the 7th grade, I left my Facebook page open on my friend’s laptop. She went in and changed the ‘n’ in my last name to an ‘ñ’. ‘You are a Latina’ she told me. “Be proud of it,” and I was. But I didn’t look Latina. And that was the sticking point. Growing up in Northern Virginia where almost everyone seemed to be bi-racial, a game of ‘guess my ethnicity’ was always fun. No one could guess where I was from, because I ‘look’ white. Typically the response would be along the lines of “You’re probably German and British.” Well, they weren’t wrong. My mother’s ancestry is German/ Irish, but my father is a full blooded Costa Rican

Traditionally at a Quinceañera there is a father daughter dance,  much like those at a wedding. My dad and I had one pictured above. I'm wearing a traditional pink dress, but it's not big and poofy instead it was understated. — Traditionally at a Quinceañera there is a father daughter dance, much like those at a wedding. My dad and I had one pictured above. I'm wearing a traditional pink dress, but it's not big and poofy instead it was understated.

I was proud of where I was from, but I didn’t feel comfortable fully embracing my identity in public, mostly because people were cruel. I was told by the other Latina girls in my school, that I wasn’t ‘Latina enough” to have a quincinera. In my mind I always considered myself Hispanic. I held dual citizenship with Costa Rica and the United States, and although I didn’t speak the language, I was taking it in school, and could understand enough of it to know when I was being talked about. A quincinera meant a lot to me, it was a way for me to contect with my heritage; which although I had plenty of I felt that I was lacking in my practice of it. My abuela never had a girl, so this was an even bigger deal for her than it was for any of us.

Ultimately, we decided to have my quincinera in Costa Rica, where the celebration would be a lot less controversial. But the experience stung. It left me wondering what it even meant to be not Latina enough. Was it race? Was it ethnicity? Maybe it was both, or maybe it was neither, maybe they didn’t know the difference between them. If I wasn’t Hispanic enough, than what exactly is ‘enough’, and how is it measured?

***

Unofficially the ‘one-drop’ rule was considered ‘enough’ to be of any race, this ‘rule’ clearly has racist roots, as it was used to determine the size of the black population in the United States tracing back to the early 1900's. Essentially the rule goes if you were 1/8th of a race or ethnicity you fell under that category and were to check it off on the U.S. Census. On the Census forms there are four categories provided for race, white, Asian, black, and Native American/ Alaskan Native. The 2010 census was the first with the option to check off multiple different races. However for the Hispanic community, we fall under white, so the Census wasn’t going to help me solve my dilemma. So I abandoned race and turned towards ethnicity.

First, I tried to understand what ethnicity even is. Janie Lee, associate professor of linguistics at the University of Mary Washington, points out that race itself is a social construct that has no biological or genetic association. “Race is based on phenotype,” Lee said. “Which is, what you look like, your skin color, the size of your mouth, the ways your eyes are shaped. That’s it, purely physical. Whereas ethnicity is regarded more as cultural heritage.” According to Lee, Latina falls under ethnicity category, not race. this includes family name, values, and traditions, and each country has different traditions. I measured myself according to these. My last name was a dead giveaway. Most Latin American countries are Catholic, check. Did we cook traditional Costa Rican food at my house? Yes. Do I visit the country to stay in-touch with my ‘roots’ so to speak? Yes I do. Do I speak the language? No, I do not. On a pro and con check list, I have more pros in the category of Latina than cons. The most factor of course was that I identify myself as being Latina.

I found an interview online that dealt with some of the issues I was facing, particularly the dilemma I had about whether I was Latina enough based on my language abilities. On The Huffington Post, Jane the Virgin actress Gina Rodriguez, addressed these issue head on. When asked by the interview if she believes that a latina does not need to speak the language fluently to be proud of their heritage Rodriguez replies with ‘That’s bananas’. “We are the Latino Community.” Rodriguez said. “Under that umbrella we have 50 or so countries, to put us in a box in unfair.”

However the question remains, how much of your language is tied to your ethnicity? Well according to Rodriguez not a lot.

“We’re all different,” Rodriguez said. “We have different food, different slang, different cultural garb, and different skin color, so put us all in a box is unfair.”

Rodriguez herself doesn’t speak the best Spanish, and recounts why her parents never spoke their native tongue in the house when she was growing up.

“My parents were terrified of us having accents,” Rodriguez said. “Because they were made fun of their whole life for accents. So they chose to only speak English in the house.”

Since my mom doesn’t speak Spanish my dad only spoke English in the house. He claims that he remembers trying to teach me and my brother Spanish, but we wouldn’t listen and run away from him, so he gave up my household became a monolingual household. But I shouldn’t be any less Latina for lacking the language, I knew people who considered themselves Philipino and never spoke a lick of Tagalog, yet no one ever questioned them.

* * *

I concluded that it wasn’t fair to have a series of guidelines for me to check if I was Latina enough. I was Latina enough because I said I was.

I thought about the anxiety I faced around my quincinera, at first telling people that I thought I might combine it with a Sweet 16 and finally, deciding with my dad to have it in Costa Rica. Nearly 500 of my dads closest family came to the party. They all knew who I was but I had new idea who they were. I was able to meet people I had only heard stories about, but I still wished that my best friends could have joined.

I didn’t have a big poofy pink dress, or a court of my closest friends, instead I had a court of cousins my age that I had never met, and short pink dress that my abuela bought. We didn’t do the shoe ceremony we did something much more meaningful, everyone all 500 or something had a candle, and I was the first to light mine and it was passed around the room until everyone’s was lit where they then told me that I was always welcome in Costa Rica.Upon coming back I had a whole new sense of what it meant to be Latina, and while I disagree with what those girls said about me not being Latina enough, I agree that its rooted deep in culture. I had always freely called myself Costa Rican, but now I freely call myself a Latina.

I a.m. Fit

December 7, 2017

How working out in the morning completely changed my routine and helped me regain motivation.

By: Abigail Nibblett

It had been such a long day. A long week, really. I’d gotten up at 6 a.m. to study for a test, sat in three back-to-back, hour and fifteen-minute classes, and gone to a meeting for my club. I still had to work on two projects and a paper after class, but was so tired that I practically fell asleep on the walk home. For the past week, my schedule had been packed with classes, meetings, and dance rehearsals, so I figured I could really use a workout, even though all I wanted was a nap. After getting back from class, I changed into yoga capris and my favorite navy blue Under Armour tank top, hoping it would motivate me to get out the door. Instead, I sank down on the couch to rest for just for a minute, or so I told myself. Then my roommate came home and started watching my favorite show, The Blacklist, on Netflix. How was I supposed to get up now? I told myself that I’d leave after the episode was over, but as I reached for a grey fuzzy blanket, I happily settled in and decided to work out tomorrow.

The next morning, after contemplating my failure to do any sort of physical activity the day before, I realized that I always work out in the evenings, when there are other things that compete for my attention or when I am too wiped out from the day to even think about doing any kind of physical activity. Why would I go to the gym when I can bake cookies with my roommates instead? It used to make sense to head to the gym after I’d taken care of the majority of my chores and homework. But, I decided to try something new for a week. I began an experiment in which I’d work out in the mornings to see how it affects me academically, physically, and personally. I want to see if changing the time of day that I work out will make it easier to find the motivation to get there.

The rules:

1. I had to work out every morning before class for a straight week.

2. I had to do it by myself, I wanted to find my own source of motivation.

The first day, my heart was pounding in my ears. I had decided to go for a run this morning and it was relatively cool, which helped, but not that much. I was sweating profusely, and while the Pop and Hip Hop Power Workout Radio station on Pandora was helping to keep up my pace, I was feeling extremely dizzy and lightheaded, which was no different than a usual cardio workout for me. I went as far as I could without vomiting, about two miles, and when I made it back to the house, I plopped onto my bed, soaked, blood-red, and shaking, and passed out for a good twenty minutes. Even though I can’t stand cardio, this week, I am trying to make friends with it because it’s the quickest way to get a solid full-body workout in. After I got up and went to class, I noticed how tired I was throughout the day. However, I still had to force myself to push through and get things done because I still had the responsibilities of the day facing me, even though every fiber in my body fought against it. Miraculously, I did manage to get a lot done, but I was definitely glad when the day was over and I got to crawl into my soft bed.

That was just the first day. By day two, I was feeling really good about myself. Two days in a row I had stuck to the plan and not let my friends tempt me into meeting them for coffee instead. I rearranged the furniture in our living room so that there was enough space for me to move around, keeping a kitchen chair as my sole piece of workout equipment. I used it for dips, step-ups, and incline pushups, alternating those with cardio exercises, including the dreaded burpees. These are my least favorite exercise, but I did three sets of 25 just to prove to myself that I could. After I was done, I grabbed a white lacrosse ball and rolled it over my les to break up the lactic acid from yesterday’s run. I came to the conclusion that on the days when it was hard to convince myself to get out of bed, I could work out at home because it requires less getting-ready time and no drive time, meaning that I could still get in a workout and sleep in an extra ten minutes. This became my backup plan. I wasn’t as tired the rest of the day, which was promising because I took it as a sign that my body was starting to get adjusted. This made me optimistic and excited to see how the rest of the experiment would go.

By day four of seven, I was getting worn out. When my alarm started blaring, I rolled over, so warm and cozy, and hit snooze. Then, three minutes into the 20-minute snooze button, I started feeling incredibly guilty, like I was cheating on the gym. So, I made myself get up, take quick shower, and head to the gym. When I arrived, it was silent. There was not a soul there, reminding me that it was too early to be doing this to my body and challenging my self-motivation. Perhaps the biggest downside of working out in the morning is that there are no group fitness classes, which means I’ve had to put my creativity to the test and come up with my own challenging workouts. I dragged myself to the rowing machine, did some abs and legwork, and then headed back home to get ready for class. Surprisingly, my body was getting used to this routine and I enjoyed having the free time in the evenings to catch up on homework or hang out with friends. Now, when I came home from class, I didn’t have to turn around and leave again. I could catch up on work, tidy my house, and take care of chores. I could even indulge in The Blacklist without the nagging feeling that I wasn’t doing what was best for me. When a friend called later that day and invited me to dinner, I was happy to accept without the overhanging guilt that I was skipping another workout. I also didn’t feel guilty about getting pasta, I justified the carbs with the amount of calories I had burned so far this week.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10!” I jumped up from finishing my last set of squats, glad that this morning’s workout was over. I was feeling good, it was the seventh and last day of the week of my morning workout experiment and overall, it had gone better than I anticipated. As I started to head down the stairs to stretch, I realized just how cramped my legs were. They locked up on me, and I had to actually pick my leg up with my arms to get it moving again. Luckily, no one was there to see it. Even though physical soreness is a slight side effect of becoming a dedicated gym-goer, I’ve started noticing other changes that make up for it. Academically, I’ve noticed that I have been focusing a lot better in class and retaining a lot more information while I’m studying, which may also partially result from the vast amounts of water that I have been drinking that my body requires post-workout. My attention span has become longer, perhaps because I am trying to keep myself from giving into being tired. The best part? I can’t use the excuse that “I’ve had too hard a day, no gym for me.” By not putting it off, I can’t come up with mental excuses to get me out of it.

Corefirst Human Performance Center, my home gym, located in Salisbury, MD.

I’ve noticed a lot of positive changes simply resulting from switching to morning workouts. In addition to the academic benefits, there was a lot of self-confidence and pride that resulted from finding my own motivation. I’ve seen that pride spilling into other behaviors and areas of my life. I ate a lot better simply because I didn’t want to put crap in my body when I had just worked so hard in the gym. I was also much more thankful to sit down in class. I’ve been using my time a lot more efficiently. Surprisingly, working out earlier in the day actually had a huge impact on me mentally, physically, and personally. I learned so much from this experiment that I’ve decided to stick to it; I am now a permanent morning gym-goer and would encourage anyone struggling with the same thing to try it. It’s taught me how important it is to take care of my body even if my mind is telling me I’m too busy. There’s a special pride that comes from overcoming your mental obstacles and discovering for yourself how good it feels to keep up a physical routine.

Me and the other dancers who performed in the piece I choreographed for PAC. Photo by Kacie Waters-Heflin.

The Flow of Dance

December 5, 2017

WHY ARE WE SO DEDICATED TO HOBBIES, AND WHEN DOES INTEREST TURN INTO OBSESSION? AN AMATEUR DANCER INVESTIGATES.

By Ginny Bixby

I was accustomed to auditions and dance competitions being high-pressured and awkward. I would practice for hours the night before, going over the routine so many times until I did it as perfectly as I could. There would always be that one girl in my category who did her overstretched splits in front of everyone before the audition even started just to intimidate the competition. You could always cut the tension in the room with a knife.

But there I was, in the middle of a dance studio, like I had been countless times before. Somehow, this time felt different. I was trying out for the University of Mary Washington dance group, the Performing Arts Company, and I was no stranger to auditions. While I was incredibly nervous, this room didn't feel like a giant pressure cooker.

First of all, I was one of the few dancers dressed in full dancewear. While I wore tights and a leotard like I would for ballet class, all the veterans who had been in the company before were in t-shirts and leggings and were giggling and chatting.

Still, when the audition started, the anxiety of worrying I wasn’t good enough hit me like always. I hadn’t danced that intensely for a few months. A plié, a relatively simple bend at the knees, felt a little more stiff than usual- I used to do hundreds of those at the barre in dance class. I soon realized that everyone was rusty, and everyone was laughing at themselves as they made mistakes. Sure, everyone was a little jittery and nervous, but there was an overwhelming feeling of fun. I wasn’t used to this. When I would mess up in a class or at competition, I would turn beet red and pray my dance teacher or the adjudicator. But when I fell out of a fouetté turn at this audition, I just sort of laughed. While I loved dance, I always took it incredibly seriously. This room I was in held such a different feeling than I was used to.

Me dancing a week before I graduated from high school. I thought this was likely the end of my time as a dancer. Photo by Katie Rose Photography.

Dance has always been my thing. Growing up in school, everyone knew me as the dancer. I missed countless homecoming dances, football games, and birthday parties for dance classes and competitions, and I don’t regret that one bit. Even though dance was my entire life, by the time I was in high school, I had decided not to pursue a career in dance- it’s a tough business, I didn’t have the right body type, and ultimately I did want a normal college experience. I thought my high school graduation would mark the end of an era for my dancing. So I was a bit surprised when after my first week of college classes I ended up auditioning for the Performing Arts Company, lovingly referred to as “PAC” by its members.

I was cast in a dance in the company, and the more time I spent there, I discovered something fascinating. I wasn’t dancing anymore because I was trying to win a competition or become professional. It was purely a hobby. It got me to thinking more about the purpose of hobbies and why people are so dedicated to them, in a broader sense. Are they good for us? And if so, why?

Dr. Kelly Lambert, professor of psychology at Randolph-Macon University, published a book in 2008 entitled “Lifting Depression.” In the book, Lambert argues that working on projects with your hands could assist in alleviating symptoms of depression. She performed a study on the effect of activity on resilience using two groups of rats. One group of rats was presented with a mound of cage bedding, under which the researchers had hidden a Froot Loop. They had to dig through the mound to obtain the Froot Loop. The other group of rats were given Froot Loops freely lying around the cage. They did not have to do any work to get them. When the researchers gave both groups of rats an unsolvable digging challenge, the group of rats that had previously had to work for Froot Loops worked twice as long and hard in the challenge than the rats who had the Froot Loops freely given to them did. The hardworking rats also had more Neuropeptide Y, a brain neuropeptide associated with resilience, in their systems than the rats that did not have to work did.

Because of the results of her research, Lambert argues that activity builds up resilience and positive mental health. She believes that using the effort driven rewards circuit in the brain is crucial in decreasing susceptibility to depression. In her map of the brain, Lambert analyzed the connection between the adjacently located nucleus accumbens, which controls pleasure, and the primary motor cortex, which controls motor activity in the body. Lambert believes it is not a mistake that these two parts of the brain are so close to each other, and that they work in tandem. Therefore, motor activity may result in pleasure.

Lambert notes that our brains have not evolved much since their prehistoric origins, and we are still inclined to appreciate working with our bodies as the cavemen did and that it is rewarding to our brains to engage in physical and motor activity. Even in the early 1900s, physicians would prescribe knitting to female patients who were suffering from anxiety because they noticed that symptoms decreased in patients who had a hobby to concentrate on, and that patients became more calm after engaging in this repetitive movement. We now know that this is because movements like that release serotonin in the brain. When we engage in passive activities like watching TV, our brains are literally numbed, whereas when we engage in motor activity, our brain’s reward circuit is engaged and we feel pleasure. Lambert also believes that when activities are too easy, it’s not good for our brains, so participating in challenging motor activity is vital.

Lambert’s ideas explain why it’s a good idea to step away from intellectual pursuits, which dominate so much of school and working life, and to do something with our bodies. But they don’t quite get at what had changed when I suddenly started becoming less competitive about dancing. So that’s what I decided to pursue next. I read that author and psychology professor Mihaly Csikszentmihaly proposed that when we do an activity for long enough, we create a state of consciousness called “flow,” and this is what makes us happy. When we are deeply involved with something in the moment, this creates “flow.” Csikszentmihaly developed this theory after observing artists who spent a large amount of time working on their craft. Among other principles, he believes that in order to achieve “flow”, the situation must be challenging, but not too stressful or difficult. That made sense to me. I did feel that I achieved a certain level of flow during PAC that I wasn’t able to before because an aspect that made it stressful, namely competition, was removed.

Me and the rest of PAC's sophomore class goofing around at our biannual picnic. Photo by Kacie Waters-Heflin.

So maybe it turns out that for me and so many others, PAC is our flow, a kind of positive addiction. The dances we perform are challenging, but not too difficult and stressful. There’s not a great deal of judgment towards our dance ability, and the whole goal is to have fun. We experience pleasure when we engage in dancing, and we reap the rewards when we have an amazing performance.

I talked to one of my close friends, Erynn Sendrick, who is the president of PAC, about why she feels that we love PAC so much. She put it in a way that makes a great deal of sense for a college student.

“I value the lack of seriousness in PAC because it allows to enjoy dance as an outlet instead of another aspect of evaluation,” she said. “We're already being graded on so many things in college, but in PAC I can go and just be myself. Honestly, what makes it so great is the environment. We’re all just here for a good time, and we like being silly, and at the end of the day we all love and support one another.” What she means is that, most simply and honestly put, it's fun. It's stress-free. It's not about trying to be the best, it's about trying to better ourselves.

College is a lot for me. As much as I love it, it's a lot of work for me. I'm an English major and I'm considering a second major in American Studies. I'm pursuing a career in journalism, so I am an editor and writer for the school newspaper, which takes up a great deal of my time and energy. And while I have handled all of this pretty well so far, I'm not sure if I would be able to without dance. Dance is good for me, and getting into that psychological flow helps me stay mentally and physically healthy.

And above all, dance is my outlet. There are rough times in life, but dance is what is always there for me to turn to. This semester, I choreographed a contemporary piece for one of PAC's shows, and it was one of the best creative experiences I've ever had. I was able to let loose and create something that was entirely my own. In PAC, I’ve had to retrain my brain to not be so tough on myself. When I dance now, if I release all the worry and tension, I can find myself in a place of freedom, and it makes me never want to stop dancing.

"Gender identity: Elric. Sexual identity: Buick V6."

December 5, 2017

The stereotype of a military service member is of extreme machismo that comes with a largely-male profession. When Elric decided to enlist, he hardly fit the bill of cold-blooded killer, either.

Over the years he worked as a Hospital Corpsman with the Fleet Marine Force, the medics that the Navy loans to the Marines, due to the fact that Marines don't have medics in their own force. By his own admission, he was average at his job, and subpar at shooting.

He wore rainbow stockings under his camouflage uniform in Afghanistan, and on his tent sign, it said “HN Kalinich, #1 Queen.”

“I was always open about my sexuality and my proclivities. I figured if I did that, they couldn’t blackmail me.”

Elric is genderfluid, identifying at times with male, female, both, or neither. This writer reflexively use male pronouns with him, and at first the question of which pronouns to use felt somehow inappropriate. But the truth of the matter was very simple, reflecting Elric's focus on clothes and presentation.

“If I’m wearing a dress, I guess you can call me Brittany and I’m a ‘she’ otherwise, I’m Elric, and I’m a ‘he.’ Makes it simple. I’m pretty laid back about it.”

The stereotype had little to no bearing on the reality of military life for Elric.

But first, let’s go back a ways.

When Elric was in grade school, as young as five or six, he would write girls names on his papers, along with his own. It just depended on the day, and it often landed him in trouble when his teachers wanted to know who "Brittany" was. It wasn't until he turned 20 that he officially came out, and codified what the swirling hurricane of feelings within him meant. He had always gravitated towards the name, later finding out that it was the name that his mother had laid out for his brother, had he been a girl instead of a boy.

Truthfully, Elric was an adopted name too, one of his middle names, used in lieu of the ubiquitous "Josh" that was his legal first name. The name was based off Elric of Melnibone, a character from a 60's fantasy novel, which his mother had enjoyed when she was younger.

"My teachers encouraged me to use 'Elric' because it made their lives simpler. There were like, 3 other kids named 'Josh' and after all my friends started calling me Elric, it stuck. I suppose for maximum theme consistency, I could have adopted 'Cymoril' instead of Brittany, cuz she was Elric's consort and would-be empress in the books. In fact, I've always said that if I ever wanted to go through Hormone Reassignment Therapy, I would probably adopt the name Brittany Cymoril...but the truth is that I don't really need hormones and surgery to be a woman."

As for his reasoning on the name spelling?

"Brittany like the place, not Britney like the singer. Though she was from Louisiana too, so I guess that's a thing. I've seen some weird spellings, like Britnay...But I'm not a fucking philistine, so I decided to use Brittany, as in the region in France."

Brittany, at her computer on International Trans Day of Visibility, March 31st 2014

There was of course, the question of whether there was any difference between the masculine and feminine in this case, or if Elric and Brittany had differences in personality.

"That kind of defeats the purpose, I suppose. This isn't some sort of personality disorder where I identify with a pair of unique individuals, they're just different sides of the same coin. I guess when I feel particularly feminine, I'm more excitable and bubbly, but that's less me exhibiting a distinct personality, and more telegraphing characteristics that are stereotypically 'female.' And the truth is, sometimes I feel like neither. I don't even feel human. Lately I've been so stressed that I don't feel any particular kind of way, because of work and life problems, I just come home and...exist. It's only when I'm kind of at peace that I feel gender."

Elric had grown up in West Monroe, Louisiana in absolute poverty. His family lived in a series of motels throughout his childhood, and his surroundings were wracked by crime. His friends and brothers were involved in drugs, and he described his friends group as "losers." After a watershed moment which he described as the instant where he realized that he needed to get out of there, he ran from the crime and gangs to the Navy.

Elric at Junior Prom, West Monroe Louisiana

Originally, he’d intended to join the Navy and be an Intelligence Specialist, which requires a coveted Top Secret clearance. While waiting for selection, he had met another sailor, whose name he’d not say. But Elric hadn’t been granted the Top Secret clearance, due to circumstances beyond his control.

He was offered three positions by the navy: Musician, Unassigned Airman, and Corpsman. He put down Unassigned Airman, Musician, and Corpsman, in descending order of preference. Naturally, he was sent to become a Corpsman.

"I was serving during Don't Ask, Don't Tell for a few years, and really nobody cared. Sure, you'd have that story that everyone seemed to know of that one gay Chief Petty Officer, about how he was dishonorably discharged for being on some gay AIM chatroom, but that was in the 90s. By the time I got in, nobody wanted to be 'that guy' who ruined someone's career over their sexuality.

“I've had romantic encounters of all kinds...perhaps I'd consider myself bi- or pansexual. Probably Pan, because gender never was really a factor in any of this. I enjoy personalities, I enjoy quirks, and that's what we'd bond over."

“I didn’t really get along super well with most people, but that’s less me being gay and more me being weird. I like Star Wars, ‘92 Buick Lesabres, and watching videos of 747s landing at Kai Tak airport in the 80s. I didn’t really have much in common with my peers. But I still wanted to be comfortable with who I was by being around people who wouldn’t look at me funny if I came in wearing rainbow tights, or even a dress and a wig.”

While at Camp Lejeune, his eventual duty station with Marine Combat Logistics Battalion 6, Elric would journey up to New Bern to visit his then-boyfriend, as well as several of his high school friends who had moved to the area, as well as internet friends in Raleigh, Hampton, and Virginia Beach. They were the people that he could count on, where he could truly be himself, and so he would travel hours to be with them.

"I just found myself wanting to get as far away from this town where everyone from eighteen to twenty-five is in the military. I would take any chance to not be in Jacksonville."

The bottle of Jagermeister that I’d bought him was already 18 ounces down, and he was showing very little in the way of intoxication. He sniffed, took another sip, and lounged back into the desk chair that was one of four pieces of furniture in the dingy living room that served as the living space of his one-bedroom apartment in Waynesboro, VA. Nothing about him fit the stereotype held in the collective consciousness of the American

“Ford Raptor-driving straight cis white dudes from Texas” he said with a smirk, as he continued,

“What’s more American than a truck that can outpace most baseline muscle cars? Maybe with a Punisher skull, "Infidel" decal and a ‘Hillary for Prison’ sticker on the back too.”

Elric was into cars to a ludicrous degree. Say here you are here. He was sitting in his living room in X town… something like that.

In fact, on the shelf above his computer desk, along with the stuffed animals, Halo figurines, and empty liquor bottles kept as souveneirs were several Hayne’s Guides for 1980s and 90s cars that he had never, and would never own.

This WAS? all juxtaposed with the Vermin Supreme-signed Pride rainbow “Don’t Tread on Me” flag that hung over the couch where I currently sat. On the coffee table in front of me sat a copy of Lance Corporal Max Uriarte’s “The White Donkey,” a graphic novel about a Marine dealing with the PTSD and depression left after his time in Afghanistan. Everything about this weird, multicolored sometimes-man in front of me should clash, but it didn’t.

We decided to take a break and walk down to Heritage Grill for dinner.

Back at his house, the Jagermeister bottle was almost half empty, all his doing. He threw on a purple hoodie and his puke-green USMC sweatpants, and poured another frosty glass of “Vitamin J” as he called it. We switched to talking about everyday life in the Navy, and how it was impacted by his sexuality.

Sometimes his past comes to find him again. In only the past month, a sailor he had met while waiting for the decision on the fateful Security Clearance found him again and began to harass him.

“Oh he started off with the usual ‘are you gay? Are you a brony?’ Which...yes to the first, no to the second, but I wasn’t about to give him any more information than he already had. Then he switched over to trying to blackmail me, which I’ve already preempted by being as open about this as I reasonably can be. But then he starts talking about being allied with some shadowy group, and saying he was going to come kill me, and that he knew where I lived.”

“He worked for one of the alphabet-club agencies, so I didn’t know what he was capable of in terms of knowing how to find me. He could literally just have been drunk, or he could have been ready to bust down my door with a hatchet. But I handled it as best I could.”

“I could have been that real tough guy and just been like ‘oh yeah? I’ll get my gun! Pull up then!’ but I’m not a violent person, at all. So I just called the police, like a normal person, called my friends, like a normal person, and had someone I knew who worked for the same agency as him tell his command, again, like a normal person. Being safe is better than being tough.”

Elric's trepidation about dressing the way he would like has continued today, if not for the same military reasons, then for the fact that putting together an outfit requires time and effort.

"I usually to this day only dress up when I'm around close friends. That's usually the only time when I have the prep time necessary to dress up a certain way. I live closer to my friends now, and it's better for me to travel to be with friends to kind of have that safety to be myself than for me to live in a 'woke' city like Richmond or DC and not be around anyone that I know."

The point could be made that it would be better for him to be able to be himself at all times, rather than a select few times among close friends. I asked him if this required a certain wariness about who he presented his true multicolored self to.

"I guess I am wary. So like, if I'm driving out to see someone I'll just not stop if I'm luridly dressed, or I'll get changed there. But that's only really if I'm going to be in an area where I think that I'll encounter some nasty looks or comments. Even then, I've never experienced any of that."

And when asked his gender or sexual identity, Elric thought that he'd never answered any better than on his Twitter handle: "Gender Identity: Elric, Sexual Identity, Buick V6"

Not Just A Backdrop

November 30, 2017

What it means to live in a historic town like Fredericksburg, Va. and how we often miss the hidden gems and lessons that it has to offer.

By: Abigail Nibblett

Ferry Farm, George Washington's Boyhood Home

After living in Fredericksburg, Va. for over a year, I realized I hadn’t visited a single historical site when I was told that the city’s Halloween ghost tours were starting again. These tours highlight historically relevant places and the tour guides tell haunting stories that reveal the stories of each location. It sounded really interesting, so I wondered why I hadn’t made the attempt to visit any of these places before now, since I consider myself a history buff. Perhaps I had let just let myself get too caught up with classes to think about the bigger picture of where I live. Fredericksburg is a very historically involved city, mostly known for the fact that Mary Washington, mother of the first U.S. president, resided here. But besides the historic metal plaques that decorate the sidewalks, dating features back to sometime in the 1800s, what does it mean to live in a historically involved city? I’ve never stopped to consider the meaning of being surrounded by numerous historical monuments and artifacts.

I met with historic preservation Professor Christine Henry in her small square University of Mary Washington office to ask what she thought it meant. Henry, who is obsessed with artifacts to the point that she once had a squished penny museum in her own home, wishes that more people cared about the power of their historical town. Henry has noticed that people love using Fredericksburg as a backdrop, but rarely do they take time to ponder the layers and stories of the area. Henry, a petite woman with a pixie haircut, said that instead of seeing the town as a movie set for real life, it’s worth it to think about the buildings’ stories: what they witnessed, what they held, what they experienced.

Over the years, the city’s buildings have had many uses. The popular coffee shop, Hyperion, used to house The Star newspaper, which merged with another paper and is now the Free Lance-Star here in town. There’s a school that was reserved for African-Americans during segregation and since Fredericksburg was chartered in 1728, it has kept its original street grid. The antique store on the corner has a sign out front letting passers-by know that it was once a Revolutionary War hospital. Seeing things this way, the historic district becomes a living museum that people can live in, feel, and touch. Henry remembered her mother forbidding her to play with their family antiques growing up, so to her, living in Fredericksburg feels like a chance to actually play with toys from the past. She loves the fact that people can be a part of the history here, that they can live inside it.

I told Henry that I had always thought of Fredericksburg as a hipster college town and even though I knew that there was a lot of history here, I had never looked at it the way she had. Henry was quick to reassure me that I’m not that different from the majority of Fredericksburg’s residents. Despite there being tons of historical sites, people don’t go unless they have a reason. “It’s easy to get in a routine,” she said, “but if people are intentional about going out and experiencing all there is to experience, they will come away feeling inspired.”

I became determined to see it through her eyes.

I visited Ferry Farm, George Washington’s boyhood home. After circling the entrance three times, confused by the construction that surrounded it, I found a way around the bright orange cones. The visitor’s center was built in classic Virginia style: tall and commanding with white columns, a red brick front, three oval glass windows, and a Greek-inspired pediment, which is a triangular piece that rested on top of the columns. I bought my ticket, $4.50 for students.

I learned that the original foundations for the house weren’t found until 2008, so it wasn’t even a visitor’s site until a few years ago. That’s the reason for all the construction going on outside. The first clue of its location was a large chunk of sandstone that was dug up when workers were building I-95. Since the sandstone was located near where archaeologists had speculated, based on evidence in Washington’s correspondence, that his home stood, they were prompted to investigate further. After they started digging, they got their confirmation. They were now constructing a replica of Washington’s boyhood home several yards from where the original home stood. Visitors can walk in the footsteps of the nation’s first president, follow his path down to the Rappahannock, walk through the gardens, and take a look at the artifacts that were once a part of Washington’s everyday life. If he really did chop down a cherry tree, this is where he would’ve done it.

The museum told me a story about how the first president’s mother, Mary Washington, was the head of the household after her husband died and that one of her goals was to emphasize self-improvement in her children, she wanted them to be refined, strive to earn their goals, and to treat others with kindness, each of which are reflected in George Washington’s leadership tactics. I learned that over 200 wig hair curlers were uncovered in the house, compared to the two that were unearthed at Mt. Vernon. This led to speculation that Mary Washington may have owned a slave that was talented at wig making and the family sold his products to other rich families. To add to the location’s rich history, I learned that Washington family artifacts were not the only ones uncovered, in fact there were several layers of artifacts on this property. Archaeologists unearthed Native American belongings, which date long before the Washington family ever occupied the land.

The Civil War also left its destructive mark on the property. In 1862, the war came to Ferry Farm, when the Union used it as a camp before they hoped to move in and strike the Confederates in Richmond. Artifacts found on the property included bullets, dice, ink wells, and a letter home which was signed off with “your affectionate friend till death,” in elaborate penmanship. During the second occupation, when the Confederacy severely beat the Union, the site was ransacked. Learning all that took place on this small piece of land really stuck with me and made me think about where I was standing. Native Americans, the Washingtons, and Civil War soldiers had all walked this ground before me, and we didn’t even know where this place was until 2008.

The Rappahannock River, as seen from Ferry Farm

While at Ferry Farm, I met an elderly gentleman who was also taking a tour and he noticed I was taking field notes. After asking me what they were for and what I was studying at school, he proceeded to tell me that “If my grandkids were here, they’d be going nuts.” He explained that they don’t really have the time or patience for this sort of thing, nor is it something that they’re really interested in. I thought his perspective said a lot about the current generation and again made me wonder why I had never made time for these things myself. He continued: “Now that we’re retired we slow down and read all the plaques.” He emphasized the importance of soaking in and appreciating all that’s around us, telling me that I should start now, while I still have plenty of time to see all that I can possibly see.

I stopped to talk to a young woman, Abby Avery, an employee at the visitor’s center. I asked her about the visitor demographic, curious as to how many people took advantage of this opportunity. She shared with me that the number of visitors is heavily dependent on the weather. “In the summer,” Abby shared, “we get a lot more families and a lot more people in general.” She said that a meager twenty people constitutes a busy day for them. Avery doesn’t feel that locals take advantage of the proximity, and says that a lot of people that visit will tell her they’ve lived here their entire lives, yet never been to see the site.

***

Now, everywhere I walked through the city, I had to stop and consider the possibilities of what could be right underneath my feet that hasn’t been discovered yet.

Because I was making all these discoveries, I was curious to see how others felt. Kathryn Peterson, a student at the University of Mary Washington, shared that “community members want to preserve the history of Fred and use that history to attract people to the area.” What Peterson meant was that we are marketing history, even cheapening it, by creating characters from historical figures and using them to sell things. For example, the museum shared the narrative that Mary Washington urged her children to be the best versions of themselves, yet there’s no real way for us to know. Maybe she was the heroine the museum created a story about, but she was obviously much more complex than that; I paused to consider the real woman that had lived here. I wish I could know what she was truly like.

In our current day, we often talk about preserving history. As historical cities move forward and adapt to the present climate, we debate about whether to hold onto the objects and lessons from our past. We also make narrative choices when we choose which elements to preserve, which to simplify. When I thought about the Washington family land that I had just visited, and reflected on the overall history of the city, I didn’t pay attention to the separate details, but rather the fact that they were all a part of a much more complicated story. This is what living in a historic town taught me: how crucial it is to see the big picture.

After talking with Henry and visiting a site for myself, I’ve learned to stop and appreciate the little charismatic details that make Fredericksburg so unique and which reveal the stories of where we come from. I now go out of my way to read the plaques and spend a few extra minutes appreciating the architecture. I’ve finally noticed the bigger picture: it’s so important to get outside of ourselves and take a moment to appreciate the incredible artifacts and lessons we have access to, as well as taking the time to remember our history and those who sacrificed to get us to this point. When I drove through downtown the other day, I realized that Fredericksburg doesn’t feel like a postcard anymore, but rather a city that’s been alive and breathing for decades, a city that houses stories behind seemingly regular buildings and underneath the seemingly normal ground.

MV[S]P - Most Valuable [Sideline] Player

November 29, 2017

The untold story of a player who doesn't get to play.

We were ranked 18th in the nation, a spot we earned following a one-goal win over Washington and Lee at the beginning of the season. The Spartans were ranked seventh. It had been seven years since Mary Washington’s women’s lacrosse team had beaten York College. The previous season, they humiliated us on our home turf in a 17-11 win.

The score was 10-6, and there were four minutes remaining in the game. A four-goal lead means almost nothing in women’s lacrosse, and four minutes is an eternity in turf time. Anything could happen.

From the way were playing, it was almost as if it were late May and we were fighting for the national championship. But it was a rainy and bitter cold Saturday morning in early April 2016. My teammate scored with three minutes and 36 seconds remaining, widening the gap to a five-goal difference. The promise of the win we’d been working and hoping for becoming more and more definite as the numbers on the clock ticked down.

York’s attack sent three more shots before time ran out. One shot went wide, and two were saved. My teammates looked at one another with grins stretched across their rain soaked faces. I tried to force a matching smile. When the final buzzer sounded, my teammates sprinted to the midfield to celebrate. I joined them, wanting to be just as happy.

This had been my goal all season. Back in preseason, when my coach asked me to write down what I wanted from this year, I’d jotted down in a notebook, “I want to destroy York on their home field.” But now that the moment was here. Why was I so miserable?

My sadness turned to anger at everything and everyone: my coach, the other goalie, my teammates, the situation and mostly myself. I recognized that what I was feeling was jealousy. I wish I had been on the field during those final winning plays and not on the bench. I didn’t like that I felt this way.

I had two options: come to terms with my position on the sideline or quit the team altogether. It wasn’t a difficult decision, in fact, it was hardly a decision at all. Sports have always played an important role in my life; the word “athlete” is as much an identifier for me as my own name. I didn’t know how to not be a part of a team, so I had to figure out how to make the sport enjoyable again.

~~~~~~~~

I reached out to Dr. Jere Palmer, a sports psychologist who works as a consultant with the University of Mary Washington’s athletic department, and explained my current dilemma.

“An athlete, whether it’s in individual sports or team sports, should only compare [herself] to the athlete [she] was yesterday,” Jere said. I was comparing myself to the wrong person because, as competitive as I was being with everybody else, I wasn’t getting any better. “It’s easy for athletes to fall down the rabbit hole of despair, and have all these negative outlooks on my team and my playing ability. But if it’s really about being a better athlete, you have to ask yourself, ‘does this negative mindset produce positive results? Does it make me better than I was yesterday?’ If the answer is no, you have to change the mindset.”

Change the mindset, I could do that. The next game was scheduled for Thursday, which gave me five days to change my mindset and become my personal best. I could do that, no problem.

Turns out, changing the competitive focus was much easier said than done. I had become accustomed to relying on comparisons to define my value as a player. It was difficult to gauge my improvement when I was constantly comparing myself to someone else’s skill level. The comparison had been centered around her for so long that I wasn’t sure how to establish a personal foundation to compare myself with.

I started to consider what about her I had been comparing myself to: she was better at saving low shots, she was a faster runner, she was better at clearing the ball out. Maybe I could compare my ability to perform those aspects of the game with the way I performed them yesterday rather than the way she performed them.

The first day at practice, I played with the notion in mind that this would be my starting point. I paid close attention to the way I was playing in the goal and made the effort to actively avoid watching the other goalie when she was in. I took mental notes on my performance in the three areas I wanted to focus on to serve as a reference for future performance comparisons. Everything was going according to plan.

Or so I thought. The next day didn’t quite produce the results I’d hoped for. I arrived at practice ready to compete with my past performance. I’m not sure if I was just having a bad day, but I definitely wasn’t playing as well as I had the day before. Every little mistake I made felt like a tremendous failure. I was dejected and frustrated with my inability to outplay yesterday’s performance. Rather than beating myself, I was beating myself up.

My coach called me into her office at the end of the week. I originally expected the conversation would involve how poorly I’d played during practice, but she had an entirely different intention for the meeting. She didn’t even mention my lackluster performance; her main concern was the bad attitude and habits I’d developed in response to my frustration with myself. I had become so determined to improve on the three areas I set out to improve on that I was not utilizing the abilities I already had. The areas I had been focusing on were areas I have always struggled with; it was unfair of me to expect to become an overnight all-star. It was then that I realized the issue was that even in self comparison, I was still unable to shift the competition away from being with her.

I told Jere where I think my problem started, with my coach stressing the importance of intersquad competition. I understood the purpose of the concept, I just think I’d gotten too competitive. He had something interesting to say. “Competition, by definition, is to strive together... Where people tend to mix it up [is by] pitting people against each other to make people work harder.”

~~~~~~~~

On game day, I sat in the locker room smiling like the Cheshire Cat, waiting for coach to read out the starting line-up. Yet, when coach said the freshman’s name instead of mine, my smile quivered and my stomach sank. I knew my name would not be called; my name hadn’t been called for weeks. I’d been preparing for this all week, so why was I sitting here, trying so hard not to cry? I excused it as a reflex and walked out to the field to warm up.

I assumed my position on the sideline and started to cheer for the girls on the field so loudly that I didn’t even hear the first whistle signaling the game had begun. The first goal was scored just over five minutes later and I was elated. The only problem was that the goal was scored by the other team. I tried to shake it off and screamed to the goalie, “That’s okay! You got the next one!” even though I really hoped she wouldn’t get the next one. And that’s when I had a hunch that this little experiment wasn’t working.

Not only did I lose the battle I was fighting with myself, but my team lost the game as well. While my teammates were reflecting on what had gone wrong out on the field, I was mulling over what I had done wrong on the sideline. I had been so supportive all week, what could have possibly happened that had caused me to crash and burn?

Later, I told Jere about it. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he told me. “You are an athlete you want to compete. That’s the nature of being an athlete. Those thoughts, that’s just the competitor in you wanting to come out. The way to combat those thoughts is to recognize that you’re having them. You’re allowed to want to compete, but you have to remember that you want your team to be successful. You may have to tell yourself that over and over until you don’t have those thoughts as often, but part of you has to accept that some of it is okay.”

Jere explained that what I felt was shared by many college athletes as they make the transition from high school. “Typically, kids that go off and play college sports have always been dominant people on their team, and not just in high school, it’s always been that way,” he said. “So they enter into college, and, I hate to say that everybody is that good, but everybody is that good.” College sports teams are comprised of high school superstars. They’re used to being at the top. So having to adjust to being in the middle or on the bottom is tough.

Hmm, so maybe I wasn't alone in the way that I was feeling? I decided to ask a few of my teammates about their experiences and see if they could offer some advice on how I could combat the overwhelming feeling that I had failed somehow. Sophomore defender, Abby Bernhardt, struggled during her transition from a high school player to a collegiate athlete because she felt that she couldn't keep up with the pace of the college game. "I think the hardest thing was going from being a leader in high school to being an observer in college," Bernhardt said. "The game is drastically different in college than it was in high school and it's hard to understand every single detail." In order to increase her own skill level, Bernhardt had to take a step back and learn how to be okay with watching so that she could better understand how to play the game. After talking with Bernhardt, I approached Nicole Lind, a senior attacker, to ask about her collegiate experiences. "The hardest transition for me wasn't necessarily physical, it was mental. I was so used to being at the top and it was hard to learn how to mentally be okay with not being the best anymore." Lind had been a three year starter on her high school's varsity lacrosse team and one of the best players to go through the school's program. As a freshman, Lind showed tremendous promise. Her steep upward trajectory was halted by an ACL tear halfway through her freshman season. She was benched for the remainder of the season and had to start from the bottom when she returned for her sophomore year. "It was hard; there were times that I wanted to quit, but looking back as a senior, I'm so glad that I stuck it out. I've learned so much being on this team and, as I always say, I'd rather be on the sideline of a great team than the best player on a horrible team." Lind said.

I was the best player on my high school lacrosse team, just like every one of my college teammates had been the best on theirs. It’s difficult to go from playing every minute of every game to being lucky if I saw the field for two minutes in a game against the worst team in the region. It led me to question my talents. Did I do something wrong? Does the coach hate me? Am I not working hard enough? Do I suck? The answer to all of those questions was no. Most of the time, the reason I was on the sideline had nothing to do with my inability and everything to do with someone else’s capabilities. The reality was, there would always be someone who is better. I was starting to understand that I had been going about this experiment all wrong. It wasn’t about trying to be better than her, or myself, or any specific member of the team. It was about being better for all of those people. I had been looking at my teammate as an obstacle in my path rather than a bridge to help me to reach the final goal.

The next practice, I was struggling with saving low shots as usual. This time, I didn’t allow myself to become frustrated with or jealous whenever the freshman goalie saved a low shot. Instead, I decided to take a different approach. After practice ended, I turned to the other goalie, swallowed my pride, and said, “Could you stay after with me for a little? I’m having a hard time with those low shots and I could really use your help.”

After ten minutes or so of her helping me, we walked off the field together toward our respective cars. Just as I was about to unlock the door, she surprised me by saying, “Hey, would you mind staying after again tomorrow? I need to work on my high saves.”

~~~~~~~~

Photo credited to Perfect Shot Photos, LLC

No one tells you what it’s really like to be sidelined. The line itself serves as both literal and metaphorical divider between the best players on a team and those who are good, but not quite good enough. Success in sports can be attributed to a combination of physical strength, athletic ability, and mental toughness. As mentally challenging as it is to be a player on the field, being a player on the sideline requires a degree of grit that cannot easily be achieved.

The skills I have learned from being a sideline player have strengthened my person and allowed me to grow. It’s not easy to stand back and watch other people live your dream, but as I continue to tell myself to fight only myself and support the team, it’s gotten better. Because I am not the best, I have been able to become better than I have ever been.

November 29, 2017

The Secret Life of Hurricane Pets

November 28, 2017

How the animals displaced by the recent hurricanes are finding new homes all the way in Fredericksburg, Virginia.

By: Abigail Nibblett & Sara Bolanos

This is Gloria, the SPCA’s house favorite. Gloria is a two and a half year old female, and is quite spunky. When we went in to meet her, she was much more interested in her breakfast. However, when we tried to leave her room, she dashed out into the kitchen. If Fat Amy from Pitch Perfect were a cat, she would most definitely be Gloria.

Meet Isabella, a one year old female, who survived hurricane Harvey and is now patiently awaiting her forever home. When we first met Isabelle, she was hiding in the litter box, but came around after some coaxing. Isabella is more like a mouse than a cat, she’s very timid and shy, but after she gets used to you, her mouse-like qualities become more like those of Cinderella’s mice: affectionate, playful, and cuddly.

Dino is a seven year old female, whose docile nature made her very sweet and loving. In her Fredericksburg SPCA profile, it states “Hi friends! My name is Dino! Pleased to meet you! I am a social gal; I enjoy hanging out with other dogs and with people! I can be a tad shy when you first meet me but I promise, I warm up very quickly with just a little TLC! I am affectionate and love attention and being pet! Please come meet me soon!” Dino is indeed shy, but is very sweet after you pat her on the head and rub her face.

This is Susan, a one year old female hurricane survivor who is still pretty shaken up. When we met Susan, she was in an almost sound proof room, separate from the loud kennels because of her anxiety after arriving. Susan is still very shy and wears a thunder shirt to make her feel more safe and secure.

Meet Kai, a three year old male who was quite literally jumping at the chance to meet us. Kai was very sweet and friendly, and seems very eager to find a loving home after losing his in the hurricanes. If Will Ferrell from Elf were a dog, he would be Kai. Who doesn’t want Will Ferrell running around their house?

This is Max, an eight year old male hurricane survivor who was perhaps the sweetest of them all. Max is very friendly and very calm, he enjoyed getting attention from us but didn’t jump or bark for it. Max has soulful eyes, which made us wonder about the disasters that he’s witnessed. Max is the typical grandpa figure: wise, knowing, has a big heart, and loves to feel loved. He also appreciates a good chin scratch.

All photos courtesy of the Fredericksburg SPCA website.

The Side Hustle

December 17, 2016

How to make it as a fashion designer when you're not from New York or Los Angeles. One Fredericksburg man takes on the challege.

By Michael Black

The sounds of hair clippers and friendly chatter greeted me as I entered The Barber Shop & Company, located in Fredericksburg, VA. My barber, Ricardo Ramirez was just finishing up a client and informed me there were two people ahead of me as I walked by his station. He was rocking a fresh pair of Adidas Yeezy Boost 350 sneakers, designed by Kanye West, with a light distressed denim custom black long sleeve shirt under his barber apron. He had on a dad hat. Ricardo was always dressed fresh.

His personal style is important to him as he’s transitioning into a new career, not just as a barber but also as a fashion designer. His clothes are a mix between GQ and urban. Brands like H&M and Forever 21 have inspired him to create similar designs, but add his own twist. Fabric plays a crucial role in his design process. Whenever he goes back to New York to visit family, he stops by the fashion district in Manhattan to stock up on a variety of fabrics. He learned to sew from the women of his family but also refreshes his memory through videos on YouTube. .

For him, it’s a direct outgrowth of his work as a hairstylist.

“I’ve always been into image. It kind of goes with the job title almost as a barber too. You gotta look fresh, you know. All around,” he said.

It’s a major challenge though. No only is fashion a tough industry to crack, but it’s also all the more difficult in a city like Fredericksburg that doesn’t have a design community or visibility to major buyers or shops. His story represents that of many artists and designers in small towns taking advantage of low rents while pursuing their art. But the concurrent challenge: how do they get noticed?

Originally from the Bronx, New York, Ricardo and his family relocated to Virginia when he was 7. He wasn’t conscious of barbershops at the time because he father always gave him and his brothers haircuts, mostly buzz cuts, at home. But once he entered the sixth grade and started to develop his ‘swag,’ Ricardo decided it was time to graduate from his father’s haircuts and hit the barbershop.

His first experience at the barbershop was successful. He remembers leaving with a clean fade and feeling inspired to cut hair. He and his brothers wanted to go back all the time and keep their hair looking neat. But it wasn’t in the budget to go too often.

“Since then, I was always paying attention,” he said. “Like every time they cut my hair, I just watched them in the mirror and asked questions, you know. But yea, it was definitely there when I started getting inspired more. I wanted to get my own pair of clippers and try it out.”

Starting from the bottom with no experience, Ricardo began practicing on himself at home with clippers he had purchased at a nearby Sally Beauty Supply. His father and uncle used to cut hair, so they showed him how to hold the clippers correctly and became his mentors. Once he became more comfortable cutting his own hair and learning how to fade, he moved on to his brothers and eventually friends. By the time high school came around, he was meeting more people to practice on. Some of his peers had noticed his skills were improving and encouraged him to try and work in a shop.

While in high school, Ramirez was working at Costco and still cutting hair on the side. His boss at the time, who also get’s his haircut by Ricardo, happened to cross paths with a barbershop owner looking for potential barbers to work in his new shop. He passed the word on to Ricardo, and a couple weeks later he began taking free training classes. About two months after classes, he began working in his first shop under an apprentice program.

“Now you have no control who was going to come in and ask for a cut, you know. You just gotta do whoever walks through the door. So that definitely helped me expand my variety of people and hair types,” Ramirez said.

He is currently still working at the Barber Shop & Company in Fredericksburg, He prides himself on having the cleanest fades and the strongest clientele.

Only recently has he tried to enter fashion. He wears some of it to his job.

Ricardo’s clothing line, Kardo (Know And Really Do) is starting to buzz locally around Northern Virginia. He recently made an Instagram page specifically for his brand and has received positive feedback from his followers. Some of the items he is selling now is long-sleeve shirts with his logo branded on it, custom dad hats, bomber jackets, and denim.

Most recently, Nokio of the popular R&B group, Dru Hill contacted him and inquired about a custom jacket he saw on his page. Ricardo made another one specifically for him and sent it out a couple weeks later. That was his biggest accomplishment to date.

Moving into the future, Ricardo wants to travel and work on obtaining more high-end clients for both barbering and fashion. His services will still be offered to the public and to those who have been loyal and supportive over the years. He’s exited and focused on the next chapter to balance out both of his passions.

The Nightmare I couldn't escape from

December 17, 2016

HOW ONE STUDENT GOT TO THE CORE OF A SCARY DREAM INVOLVING A MYSTERIOUS MAN

By Michael Black

I used to have the dream often. I woke up in the wee hours of the morning covered in sweat and my heart pounding.

It involved an unidentified man, who was at my doorstep and eventually tried to force his way through the front door. I tried to defend myself by throwing punches his way, but for some reason my arms wouldn’t move. I made a run towards the stairs, but he caught me by the feet about halfway up. That was when I really start to freak out. Suddenly, I jolted awake.

I’ve always wondered the meaning behind it, and if it was a sign for a future event. What was it trying to tell me? Maybe it stemmed from previous events that occurred in my childhood. For instance, I had spent many hours home alone while my parents were at work and received prank calls that often scared the shit out of me. But the memory that probably scarred me the most was when my next store neighbor tried to break into my house while I was home. I dreaded staying home alone for years. At night, it was even scarier.

Perhaps it had to do with fears. But maybe it was something else. I decided to turn to dream experts to help me find out.

I met with Dr. Hilary Stebbins, a psychology professor at the University of Mary Washington to talk about recurring dreams and share my personal experience.

She told me that often times people’s dreams reflect things they have experienced in real life.

“There’s a ton of evidence that shows that you are representing the real world in your dream world. It’s just your brain reactivating stuff that you had experienced in the past. Whether or not that activation is meaningful or not is controversial.

It could be completely random. For instance, say you’re asleep and there is spontaneous activity in the brain, and it happens to activate this cortex, causing this representation. Or it could be purposeful. Your brain may be trying to link things together that you may not in the real world. So you may never think to bring these things up,” she said.

In terms of having recurring dreams, bad dreams, or nightmares, Stebbins states that they are more likely associated with people who have had traumatic experiences.

“It makes perfect sense that if you’ve had something that was significantly emotional in the past, that in the dream state, your cortex would activate that. And again, why it’s doing that is unclear. It may just be random, or it may be that that has a higher likelihood of activation because of that emotionality with it. And so that could explain, especially people with PTSD, a higher occurrence of nightmares and having these types of recurring dreams than other people,” she says.

After sharing my recurring dream with her, I asked if it would be considered as a nightmare or just a bad dream. Dr. Stebbins said there is no real differentiation and straight up definition between the two. There are individual differences in emotional activities in general (Stebbins).

“There’s this area of the brain called the amygdala, and the amygdala is all about fear processing. And so, there are people who just that are more likely to be activated, and I think that correlates with those types of dreams as well,” she said.

People who suffer from PTSD are more likely to describe what they have as nightmares. There are many treatments available to help cope, but only after the condition has been established.

Researchers from the University of Oxford have recently found that playing Tetris could help reduce flashbacks from traumatic events. Volunteers of the study were shown a film with traumatic content. After waiting for 30 minutes, 20 of the volunteers played ‘Tetris’ for 10 minutes while the other half did nothing. Those who had played the computer game experienced significantly fewer flashbacks to the film over the next week (University of Oxford).

From what I’ve gathered, dreams are real and they reflect our real world activity. Folks with PTSD have a tougher time dealing with their dark, emotional experiences. I was happy to come across the research about the Tetris game making a difference. Medication (pills) is not always the best solution in my opinion. There are some effective treatments for civilians and war veterans. For example, they have psychiatric service dog training programs for soldiers.

In my case, my issue was fear as an adolescent. I feared being home alone, and that an intruder may break into my house again. These days, I struggle with different types of fear. The fear of failure and fear of public speaking are two struggles that I have been trying to deal with mentally. I believe my recurring dream was a test, to see how I would react when fear presented itself at my residence. In my dream, when I saw the unidentified man, I reacted and tried to defend myself. Even though I was scared, I was willing to take a chance against fear. So I think the overall message of my recurring dream was to take more chances with my current battles.

Thanks for the memories!

December 16, 2016

How some families handled Thanksgiving this year: Avoid politics. Here’s how I came to realize that might be for the best.

By Mitchell Eubank

After an election which left both parties reeling,I was looking forward to talking to my family about everything that was going on when everyone was going to be together again, during Thanksgiving. I admit it may have been an unusual choice. I’ve had an on-again, off-again relationship with politics for the past ten years. But this campaign left me addicted in a way most deaths attributed to drugs and alcohol go, and my mother wouldn’t let me go out like that.

She gave me a firm no. The 2016 election lasted 604 days – approximately eighteen months – and she was burned out. When I told her my plans for this story, she said “[they were] out of the question, [especially after] how communications [in general] broke down [en masse] after the race had been called.”

Mothers worry too much. But we mutually agreed that politics didn’t belong in family gatherings. While Republicans in Congress would be quick to call this an act of martial law, my mother and I would fancy it a temporary truce. Either way, the pact was made in time for my parents and I to book three Thanksgivings over fall break: one on Thanksgiving with the paternal side of the family, a second at home with my parents on Black Friday, and the last set for Saturday afternoon with the maternal half of the tree. This was not due to irreconcilable political differences, but because of my extended family.

Still, I wondered whether, given everyone’s passions about the subject, we’d be able to stick with that sentiment. Several had newspapers reported that Thanksgiving dinner would not be as happy as it was in previous years. Would mine be one of the cheerful ones? I guess I’d see.

My parents and I were the first to arrive at Aunt Phyllis’s house. Her dinner involved a small gathering of family members who lived close to us. Said members passed for Norman Rockwell characters – harmless, yet honest. One caught my attention by wearing a red, white, and blue American flag trucker cap. It was Americana in one image: A hard-working family settles down for a well-deserved reward.

I was unable to interview Phyllis because of how busy she was preparing her meal. She did, however, explain to me that “Thanksgiving is a means to talk about the past with people we love in the present, while preparing for a newer, brighter future.” This didn’t stop some guests from calling Phyllis out for saying that with carving knife in hand, but I digres.

My second dinner was an at-home affair with my parents. A brick house in Spotsylvania was our home for twenty years.

My mother Tammy usually provides a hearty meal to cleanse everyone’s palates, or we order take-out from a local eatery of my choosing. Now, though, it was Black Friday – when local hospitals take care of injuries the patients brought upon themselves – and Tammy pulled out all the stops for her buffet spread.

It was nice to spend a few moments with them, thanking them for all they’d done for me.

My final dinner was at the Wheeler estate near Lake Anna. The guests this time were kinder and more light-hearted. Among those there were my Aunt Leanne and Uncle Jeff, the former both a secretary and administrative assistant for the Lake Anna Power Station; my grandfather Wade, a next-door neighbor to the Wheelers as long as I can remember; and the hosts, the Wheelers themselves.

I did not panic during the evening’s affairs, even after Bailey, the Wheeler family dog, stole a piece of bacon and “buried” it underneath one of the couch’s pillows like a drug addict snorting lines of cocaine. Both Jessie and my younger cousin, Jenny, read my body language all too well after that, and humored me by asking to be “paid” for their interview.

Jenny said “[I had] to pay [her] thirty dollars for every half-hour” I had with her, and Jessie responded by “[warning her] that these interviews were for profile pieces, [which forbade] her from anonymity in the final edits of the story.” Once again, comedy was just what I needed; a few minutes later, it would also be the source of what I did not want to hear that week.

When talk turned to my journalism class, there was a major hiccup in the original plan.

“The media [ignored Donald] Trump’s campaign, and look at them now,” my cousin Jessie said. It was a miracle the crowd of family members continued to eat uninterrupted once Jessie said that; with everything they went through, they needed a break, and nothing, not even fear of the unknown other, could tear their bonds apart. I needed to see this image after the shock Jessie gave me, and I’m all too grateful that I did.

Overall, people can have happy Thanksgivings without politics. This doesn’t apply to everyone, as I learned when talking about it with my classmates, but my mind’s cleared up, I’ve regained my self-confidence and trust in others, and I’m ready to face the world head-on, with no regrets. In short, this Thanksgiving is much like my life, as – to quote the character of Angel from the musical, Rent – it always looks like another case of “today for you, [and] tomorrow for me.”

All the Trimmings

December 16, 2016

PEOPLE'S DECORATIONS REVEAL A LOT ABOUT WHAT THEY CHERISH DURING THE HOLIDAYS.

Casey Coulter

Every year, my family buys our Christmas tree at “the place where Elvis buys his tree.” We walk through the aisles of freshly cut trees, trying to find the perfect one. My mom and sister pull at the branches to make sure they aren’t dry. They circle them ensuring they are full all the way around. Eventually we agree on one that’s about 8 feet tall. Then my dad and brother load it on top of the truck.

Soon enough it’s standing next to the fire place in our living room. A week before Christmas, my mom places her 32-year-old angel at the top. We load up our tree with ornaments from over the years, lights, and tinsel. My family home is decorated with one strand of lights outside, while my neighbors put out several inflatables. Seeing the decorations up puts me in a different mindset. It’s magical. Everything just feels happier.

Everyone has different decorations that put them in the holiday spirit. They might have had it since they were a child, or it might be something they found as an adult. Decorations vary from person to person. Some are tacky, while others are traditional. Many are bought in stores, yet some take the time to make them by hand. Still they all share something, a story. So I went around to hear them.

For Abbie Mathews it’s not Christmas until she hears her favorite snowmen sing. Every year after thanksgiving, her family rushes to Hallmark when they release their musical snowmen. When hallmark first released these caroling snowmen in 2003, Abbie begged her mom to buy one. It has been a tradition ever since. At her family home in Chesapeake, VA the 14 snowmen fill her family room with music, “they put you in the holiday spirit,” Abbie said.

“I use to press all the buttons at once” she explained, “just to drive my mom crazy.”

She realizes that there’s something kitschy and consumerist about building her collection.

“It’s great for the business aspect” she says, “even though it can take away from the holiday.”

But for her these decorations is less about buying and more about a memory. She appreciates how there’s a new snowman every year. It’s a ritual that always takes her back in time. And as the snowmen collect, she gets to witness the passage of time.

Her favorite ornament is a snowman that carries a tree while other snowmen sing around him about the how they will decorate it. It reminds her of the special tradition in her own family. Every year they go out and get the tree together and decorate it. She and her sister argue about who will get to put the star on top.

Katrina Feurtado focuses on the religious reasons for the holiday. ”I have this nativity scene that my grandma made,” she said. “It shows the story of the holiday.” Rather than filling her home with popular store-bought decorations, prefers handmade items. No lights brighten up her house. There are no inflatables in her yard. But inside, there are custom decorations everywhere.

Her one of a kind nativity scene stands on a circular coffee table in the front of her house. Her favorite pieces are the three kings, “My mom use to read me a story about them every Christmas” she remembers. In the story the kings brought gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. They followed a star to the manger that the baby was born in. Baby Jesus is not added to Katrina’s nativity scene until Christmas morning.

“It follows the religious story,” she explained. Over the years, paint has chipped off, pieces have broken, and the words have faded. But her grandmother is remembered every holiday season.

Dennis prizes his mother’s tradition of buying him an ornament every year.

His favorite is from the year his family got a dog for Christmas. He was 7 at the time and being the only child, he wanted a companion. That year for Christmas his ornament was a husky with a Santa hat. His parents joked that was the only dog he was getting, but the next morning he got the dog he wanted, Damon. His family only had the dog for a year, before they gave him to a family friend.

“He kept getting into trouble and I really wasn’t taking care of him,” he explained. The cliché of getting a puppy for Christmas is clear to him now. Yet, as a child he couldn’t have been more please.

As trees grow, so did Dennis. He no longer wants a puppy. Rather, he works as a personal trainer and is studying kinesiology. Yet, these ornaments from his childhood still fill his tree year after year.

Amanda looks forward to having a white Christmas every year, though it doesn’t always happen.

“I grew up in the mountains of Pennsylvania” she explained, “it always snowed.” After moving to Virginia, she realized that there would not always be snow on her favorite holiday.

Not being able to go outside and build a snowman with her brother Brandon, she decided to fill the windowsill with unique snowmen. The first one she bought lights up when you move the broom on its side. “It’s my favorite because it was my first,” she explained “and it looks realistic”. Her collection has grown over the past few years, thanks to friends and family buying her snowmen as gifts.

“I’d rather see real snow, but they’re a nice substitute” she said. While they have no deep meaning to her, they do help to put her in the holiday spirit. She hopes that this will be the year she gets her white Christmas.

What I realized in talking to so many people about their decorations is the way that physical objects taken on a significance that’s bigger than them. People aren’t buying or making their decorations because they’re interested in the things themselves. They’re meant to evoke memories and feelings.

Ornaments, decorations and trees create a festive environment that puts people in touch with their pasts.

The Fairy Godmother Project

December 16, 2016

How Helping A Fellow Neighbor Turned Into Something Greater For the Community of Fredericksburg.

By Andrew Arenas

In 2009, Andie McConnell was living close to a family whose child had survived pediatric cancer. She saw the hardships they faced and how isolated they became. She sometimes went over to their house to check up on them and give them someone to talk to.

She heard about their changes in routine and finances. Keeping up with everyday life became all the more challenging. She provided and ear, but she always wished she could have done more. Watching them go through such difficult times compelled her to do something about it.

Two years later, she started the Fairy Godmother Project, a non-profit organization that supports families that are facing pediatric cancer.

To get the project underway she had to survey families and local hospitals in the Fredericksburg area. She sat with them and spent time learning about their struggles and what they needed.

“What struck me the most while surveying was that need and void that many of the families expressed to me,” McConnell explains. She found that many families felt isolated from their friends when they turned to them for help.

Because she had worked in fundraising, she started getting collecting money through social media.

So far, her project has had some major successes. This calendar year the Fairy Godmother Project has been able to provide 36 different families that are currently facing pediatric cancer. The organization has also raised $50,000 just in grocery and gas gift cards alone.

One of the main services her organization offers is to ease the burdens on families by making meals, providing professional house cleaning and giving haircuts and lawn care. She also developed a fun to help them pay bills.

She worked very closely with a cancer parental advisory board to figure out the best possible way to memorialize a child. Offering financial assistance to cover funeral and headstone costs does in fact cost a lot of money.

A newly implemented program called ‘Stargazers’ was meant as a supplement to what is offered at a typical hospice. It includes planning celebration of life, funeral, and most importantly support after the child passes away.

McConnell and her daughter Eve recently started a program called ‘adopt a family’ which is geared towards young children. “It’s good for the kids to understand especially during the holidays to be comfortable helping others” McConnell says. The children are able to help the families by helping with cleaning and make cards for them. She finds it as a good way to learn life lessons such as leadership roles and what to say when someone is terminally ill. “The experience can be scary and tough, but I learned so much from my mom and wanted to do more to help” Eve said.

Some might question exposing a young children to pediatric cancer and the heartbreak it brings along with it. Eve gets to interact with those terminally ill children the same way as any other child. Grade school children can get confused to a child that’s bald or are afraid to interact with them. “Yes, it can be a tough pill to swallow for these kids, but I believe that sheltering children from this disease won’t help them in the long run” McConnell says.

Her ultimate goal with this program is to further remove that barrier where children can cope with the idea that cancer can occur at a young age.

The last program McConnell discussed is providing photo sessions donated by professional photographers in Fredericksburg. “Talking with many of the families, we’ve come to realize what an amazing gift photography can be” McConnell states. The photographers job is to capture cherished family moments, their love, and connections for each other despite the stresses of dealing with pediatric cancer.

“Like most diseases, people don't give pediatric cancer much thought until it impacts someone they know or love, but the reality is they should.” She believes that few people know first-hand the harsh reality of the long-term physical side effects of treating the disease, which includes learning problems, developmental delays, heart problems, infertility, developing a second type of cancer and many more. Her organization also spotlights the true emotional impact the families face over the years.

Reflecting on the five years of running a non-profit organization, McConnell stresses that the organizations values and mission haven’t changed one bit. “In the beginning we were really winging it, but now we are able to make smart business decisions that are viable to this organization” McConnell says. She gives a lot of credit to a “strong and capable” board who support and respects her and the mission to help as many families as humanly possible.

She Signed Up, Laced Up, and It’s Changing the Roller Derby Game

December 16, 2016

JESSICA UGARTE AND HER ROLLER DERBY TEAM WORK TO REDEFINE THE SPORT

By Kelly Emmrich and Abigail Whittington

From the outside, the Richmond roller rink, the Roller Dome, looks like a warehouse with panel siding and a few floodlights. Inside is a different story. Blow-up aliens dangle above the arcade, neon flashing lights fill the rink and a Bruno Mars music video is projected up onto the front wall.

Teenage boys fly by performing tricks. An older skater wearing faded blue jeans with a white bandana hanging out of the back pocket and a yellow tank top eases closer to the wall. One four or five year old boy hangs on his mom’s leg for support.

Jessica Ugarte said that the Roller Dome “looks like it was ripped right out of the 80s. There’s neon. There are gaudy colors. A lot of the rinks are holdovers of that time period.”

Jessica is not there to leisurely skate. She’s there for practice. On the front wall Jessica puts on her gear with the rest of her team. A few members of the team start warming up on the rink. Jessica finishes lacing up her skates and moves out to the center as well to warm up. Like clockwork, at 9:30 p.m. the fluorescent lights turn on and the casual skaters thin out.

Jessica is part of Mother Skate Roller Derby which is based in Richmond, Virginia. Mother Skate was founded in January in 2010, and has been going strong since. On their website it states that Mother Skate “promotes the progressive growth and sustainability of women’s flat track roller derby as a competitive sport by implementing a traditional athletic approach to training and team.”

For her practices, she often wears her long brown hair in two braided pigtails. She takes off her red-framed glasses. The rest of her ensemble is made up of athletic wear: black leggings and a black short sleeved Mother Skate t-shirt with the number ‘6’ on the back.

Mother Skate, she wants to make clear, isn’t the Roller Derby that you imagine, replete with tutus, butt shorts and glittery hose. For them it’s not a show. Their goal is to show the world that roller derby is a serious sport. It’s not just the woman’s version of WWF.

* * *

Around 9:40 p.m., the coaches starts practice. The women form a line with one coach in the front and an assistant coach in back. They all start skating around the rink keeping in tight formation. Then they move on to other drills working on their speed skating forward and backwards. For the last drill, they move into a tight clump and work on moving from the inside of the boundary line to the outside and back, quickly.

The coach ends the drills, and the women quickly stretch out their muscles and get a sip of water before splitting up into two teams of five to scrimmage. The head coach hands one team, Jessica’s team, orange mesh jerseys and the other team sticks to their black t-shirts.

Roller derby is played by two teams of up to fourteen players, who both field up to five members for each two-minute jam, simultaneously skating counterclockwise on a circuit track. Each team designates a scoring player (the "jammer"); the other four members are "blockers." The goal is to get the jammer around the tracks.

Despite the intense drills and long and frequent practices that Jessica’s team and teams like hers go through, roller derby has frequently been covered as a lifestyle story in media. Roller girls have been described as “chicks on wheels” rather than female athletes. It wasn’t until recently that journalists began covering roller derby in the sports section of news outlets, but there is still progress to be made as far as the way roller derby is represented.

Jessica, Mother Skate and the rest of the roller derby community are currently struggling with how to get people to take roller derby seriously.

In 2006 while Jessica was working on her undergraduate degree in Savannah, Georgia, she found a flier hanging up on a coffee shop wall that advertised the need for more roller girls to join a local roller derby team. Jessica had always been athletic, competing in a variety of sports growing up, but she lost interest in college. When she saw the flier though, she decided ‘why not give it a try.’

Jessica had never been on a roller derby team, and her experience with skating was limited to a handful of childhood birthday parties at local roller rinks. She found that many others were in the same boat. Many of her teammates were beginners too. During her first few practices almost everyone hugged the wall while trying to complete laps around the rink. Only those who had experience being a figure skater or a hockey player had the balance to step onto the rink immediately without falling.

Now Jessica has found her balance. Just a few months ago, Jessica tried out for the Commonwealth of Virginia’s All-Star team. The requirements for joining were that the skater must live in Virginia and be on a team already. A lot of getting on the team is how the skater works with others and how the skater adapts to different skating styles. Jessica has played for many teams in her lifetime. She has had the opportunity to learn from different coaches and work with skaters with different styles and techniques. Because of that, her knowledge and experience with roller derby is vaster than most.

It came as no surprise that Jessica made the team. She is now practicing to try-out for the roster for the Battle of the All-Stars games that are coming in February in which fourteen different states compete in a four day long competition.

Roller derby, like most sports, can be aggressive in nature. In the span of Jessica’s roller derby career she has broken both of her legs. She broke her left leg in 2006, which now has a plate and six screws. She also broke two bones in her right leg in September of last year. One bone has a plate and six screws and the other has just one screw. She has also suffered from more minor injuries such as a broken finger and various bruises, but she doesn’t let injuries keep her from coming back to the sport.

“I’ve known people doing similar leg breaking things just stepping off a curb so it’s going to happen one way or another and I would rather have fun while doing it,” said Jessica.

When asked what makes roller derby different from other sports, Jessica explained that it is unique because it is an all-inclusive sport. No matter a roller girl’s race, sexuality, or body shape, the community offers support and guidance to make sure that everyone can succeed.

“The meekest little mouse of people can practice and still learn and grow in roller derby,” said Jessica.

* * *

Roller derby was invented in 1935 by Leo Seltzer as an attraction to fill the Chicago Coliseum. It was modeled off of dance marathons and bike races popular in the 1930s. Roller derby at this time consisted of a team of one man and one woman who raced across a mythical track that represented one coast of the U.S. to another. However, Seltzer knew that while having a team with women athletes would attract a crowd because it was taboo at the time, he also knew that the sport would not be taken seriously by the media for that very reason.

Unfortunately, the sport lost its traction shortly after it was invented. It wasn’t until about 1970 when the sport reemerged, but it was still thought of as a sport of showmanship similar to wrestling. Roller girls were expected to dress in quirky clothes.

“Way back in the derby dinosaur days it was the tutus and the fishnets and face paint and all that stuff,” Jessica recounted. Even Jessica used to wear silver shorts to games.

The change in attire was purposeful for many teams. Jerseys made them look more professional. Jessica’s league, Mother Skate, wears all black and gray to games: gray jerseys, black shorts, black shin guards, black knee pads, black wrist guards and gray helmets. They got rid of the kitschy costumes in hopes that a more regulated uniform would help spectators and media take their sport more seriously.

Jessica’s team has also made the decision to skate under their real names rather than their roller derby names. When Jessica started skating she had the opportunity to pick out her roller derby name. At this time there was a volunteer run roller derby name database that roller girls had to register with. The database was already fairly large when Jessica chose her roller derby name, Rae Gunn, a reference to the TV show, The X-Files.

However, as the sport’s popularity grew, so did the database. It became impossible to find a name that wasn’t already claimed and the volunteers who ran it felt overwhelmed with the number of new registrations coming in. Besides, they also had a desire to leave the kitsch behind.

They also hope getting rid of the names can help bring in more spectator because many of the names that people have chosen are slightly vulgar which makes it uncomfortable for families with children to watch the sport.

It looks like the efforts to professionalize the support are garnering wide-spread support. Roller derby is now on the short list for consideration as a sport in the 2020 Tokyo Olympics.

The Sunday Pagan Society examines crystals and their various powers.

Inside Paganism

December 16, 2016

FOR ONE STUDENT, PAGAN PRACTICES HELPED TO EXPAND HIS MIND AND ALSO ACCEPT HIMSELF

By Ester Salguero

Bradley Veerhoff walked in late to the workshop for basic energy manipulation. He looked around the room in Monroe Hall at the University of Mary Washington and saw everyone was holding their hands out in front of them, palms up. He quickly sat down while someone in the group showed him what to do. Now he had his hands out, palms up and he began to feel an energy gathering between his hands. It made something like what he described as a spherical movement. He was amazed at what he was feeling.

“I was definitely smiling, or like holding back a smile because it was a real physical thing,” Veerhoff confessed. Though he had always been open-minded, which was why he decided to attend this Sunday Pagan Society meeting for the first time, he had no idea he would have had such a transformative experience. He admits that he did have a little bit skepticism about it, as he usually does with new experiences. His friend invited him to the society meeting at the beginning of the semester but he had become familiar with Paganism before then. The group started gathering about a year ago, but recently it became an official club at the university.

Veerhoff isn't sure about how long this journey will last until he finds something else, but he has found a sense of community at the meetings and value in some of its spiritual practices which comforts him. He's someone who likes to seek out different theoretical, mythological and spiritual perspectives, trying each of them on like hats. Veerhoff is an example of many Americans these days who are reluctant to identify with any particular religion but who still feel the need to find a sense of spirituality.

“I consider them [various theologies] to be different ways of seeing the world, which are more or less useful for me in different circumstances,” he said.

This is why Veerhoff's story is so interesting. His spiritual journey is similar to the search for meaning that so many of us go through.

* * *

When Veerhoff was younger, he used to go to church with his family. They went mostly because many of their friends did. But when Veerhoff was in elementary school his father started to doubt his own involvement in the church. His father started questioning the religion and found an unpleasant taste with the way that the church was becoming too political or too promotional of certain Republican Party platforms.

Since Veerhoff's father didn't want to go to church anymore the rest of the family followed, eventually. It was the beginning of a time when all of the family members started to think more deeply about who they were and what they believed.

One day, during Veerhoff's high school years, his father handed him a book. It was a science-fiction classic that sorted out conspiracy theories of his age, in a tone that was satirical and filled with adventure. His father knew that Veerhoff was interested in these theories and thought it would open his mind.

For Veerhoff, it did that and more. It made him realize something about conspiracy theorists, that their beliefs cloud their judgment, or as he says, “Your beliefs alter your vision.”

The book introduced him to Discordianism, as well as to a study of occult practices. What he liked about Discordianism was that it promoted questioning. It's a theory that expects its followers to figure out where they stand in the theology, without resorting to a central dogma. Discordianism and its “impetus to seek out new experiences” helped Veerhoff get out of his comfort zone.

“You are supposed to take issue with them [Discordian theories] and then form your own schism, as part of our principles,” he said, as he was trying to spool out this very confusing but intriguing theology.

"I went on the internet to find out more about this obscure religion. He was right in saying that the religion was humorous. It was sort of like a parody of religion. The central dogma is that there are no dogmas."

Given this background, paganism intrigued him since it didn't involve one single religious division. Paganism incorporates multiple outlooks from different regional religions that originate from areas like, Persia, Egypt, Greece and Rome. It is a blanket term that encompasses many different theologies. Pagans tend to collectively venerate nature and worship manifold deities, either goddesses or gods.

For Veerhoff, Paganism is also a way to understanding. He says the community on campus makes him feel “like [he] can learn about Paganism more readily” than, if he were to try and do it on his own as he has with many other religions he has studied. It connects him with people on campus and through this society he has learned a lot about himself.

Through these perspectives, Veerhoff hopes to be able to understand people, of all walks of life, and also, to challenge himself to consistently shift his mindset, instead of being complacent with his beliefs.

Andy Unger, the president of the Pagan Society, told me over Facebook that members of the group agreed that Paganism has no central belief.

“Everyone in our group is from a different pagan religion, and some of us don’t fall into any religion at all,” he said.

The primary value of the Pagan Society “is that everyone is equal and needs to be treated with respect,” Andy said. “The only people we refuse to allow into our membership are those who have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that they will not respect the race, gender, sexuality, [and] religion” of others.

* * *

Hearing about paganism from Veerhoff and Andy made me curious to see what it was all about. So, I went to see for myself. I went to the last meeting of the semester, and they were discussing rocks, a.k.a healing crystals, and their many psychic properties. They talked about lapis lazuli, a deep celestial blue stone that is known for its "journalistic qualities." According to pagans, it helps people feel more creative, so if you are having difficulty with writing, make this stone your friend. Veerhoff has his own collection that hangs out on top of his drawer in his dorm and he has been wondering what to do with them, since they have been sitting there for a while.

While I was there the group passed some rocks around, someone had volunteered to share their entire collection with the group. The person leading the discussion was passing them out to people who wanted to try and feel the energy or vibrations of the rocks. She even gave each of the rocks a personality.

"This one's aggressive," she said and handed it back to the keeper. I kept looking at her pass them to people because I was curious to see how they responded. There were no visual signs of any interaction between the rock and the people but I still wanted to see if I could maybe feel something. Then she picked up another one and said, "Oh, I felt something there," she handed it to me and asked, "Do you feel it?"

With hesitation, I said, "Not really but I honestly have no idea about any of this."

Then I handed it to Bradley who was right next to me and tried to observe how he responded. He looked very enthralled by the stones, they were very beautiful and interesting to look at anyway.

But even though I didn't experience any visceral responses, I didn't discount the members' own experiences. In my life, I've seen a lot of bodily and emotional responses during spiritual gatherings. I also found the meeting more informative than experiential, this time around. I was interested and inquisitive about the mystical powers of rocks that many of the members seemed to understand.

There is another aspect of paganism that appeals to Veerhoff. Recently, he has observed “how the various pagan religions relate to being neurodivergent,” in that Paganism has a respect for plurality and that the principles also recognize the importance of an individual psyche, the inner most self, along with varying personalities. He sees neurodivergence and Paganism as ‘intersecting fields.’

By Steven Rubino*Correction: Veerhoff clarified that the book was not The Illuminatist! Trilogy but a book written by the social theorist Paul-Michel Foucault, which he cannot recall the name of, that was given to him by his father. — By Steven Rubino
*Correction: Veerhoff clarified that the book was not The Illuminatist! Trilogy but a book written by the social theorist Paul-Michel Foucault, which he cannot recall the name of, that was given to him by his father.

By Steven RubinoCorrection: Depicted in the comic are hands-on tests when in reality the tests were completed in an MRI scanner. The depiction is meant to visually illustrate what Veerhoff narrated as an out of body experience. — By Steven Rubino
Correction: Depicted in the comic are hands-on tests when in reality the tests were completed in an MRI scanner. The depiction is meant to visually illustrate what Veerhoff narrated as an out of body experience.

Latest & Greatest

Featured

Dec 13, 2024

He's a Popular, Popular Monster

Dec 13, 2024

Dec 11, 2024

Team Edward or Team Pattinson

Dec 11, 2024

Maeby She’s Born With It

Dec 11, 2024

How Laufey Is Making Pure Love Cool Again

Dec 11, 2024

Try Not to Go Insane Challenge: Impossible

Dec 11, 2024

Timeline of Protective Gear in Sports.jpg

Dec 10, 2024

Protective Equipment In Contact Sports

Dec 10, 2024

From Gridiron Genius to Booth Breakou

Dec 10, 2024

Dec 10, 2024

Is the Life of a Diva Worth It?

Dec 10, 2024

Dec 9, 2024

The Trek Back

Dec 9, 2024

Copy of Colorful Modern Business Chronology Timeline Infographic.jpg

Dec 9, 2024

Miley Cyrus’ Breakdown and the Shocking Rebirth of a Pop Icon

Dec 9, 2024

about us

We are magazine writing students at the University of Mary Washington in the wonderful town of Fredericksburg, Va. Thanks for visiting our site. We hope you enjoy what you read. If you have any comments, concerns or ideas, you can reach us here.

THE FXBG MAGAZINE

The Diet:

The Exercise:

Day 1: Not off to a good start.

Day 2: I cheated.

Day 3: Skipped the gym.

Day 4: I see the results.

Day 5: Thank God, it’s over.