THE SIREN, SPRING 2016

uncsiren.com

Dear Reader,

How do you take care of yourself in a world that tells you not to? How do you heal after trauma, revitalize yourself, and fight back?

To answer these questions for ourselves, we wrote poems, we cooked recipes, we told stories, and we listened to each other. What we found through this process was that there is not just one way to heal. What we created is the community-sourced self-care zine you are holding now.

Self-care is not lazy. Self-care is not passive. Self-care is not selfish. As Audre Lorde said, self-care “is self-preservation and that is an act of political warfare.” It is claiming eight hours of sleep every night in a university setting that thrives on stress culture. It is prioritizing radical love and relationships in a space that pits us against each other. It is demanding agency in your healing process despite others’ attempts to trivialize your pain.

We are expressing radical politics when we take care of ourselves. There is power in this. We hope this zine helps you find that power.

With love and in solidarity,THE SIREN SCHEME TEAMAmanda Kubic, Callie Wallace, Lisa Dzera & Liv Linn

BY KATHRYN DONAHUE

DESIGN: LAURA BRADY, QUOTE: BREANNA LYNN

BY AMANDA KUBIC

sometimes I squeeze my elbowsand press them in hard

until they fit into the divotsof my splintered, straining ribs

sometimes I pour the wateradd a dash of sweet green salt

and sit only to soak upthe steam and silence

sometimes I crack my knucklesagain, and again, and again

until all of the sore bonespop back into place

sometimes I look at elephantsholding on to their own tails

and realize my lonelinessdoesn’t hurt like theirs

sometimes I think about lovemine, yours, theirs, ours

until my heart is full of lightand the sun rises up again

BY LIV LINN & LINDSEY ARATA

BY LAURA BRADY

BY RACHEL MAGUIRE

BY LAURA BRADY

SUN DRIED TOMATO PESTO:• 1/3 cup walnuts

• 5 cloves garlic• 1/3 cup parmesan cheese,  grated

• 1/3 cup sun dried tomatoes• 4 tbsp olive oil (if you’re using sun-dried tomatoes that are jarred in oil, you’ll need

about this much.  I recom-mend using the oil from the

jar.  If you use the ones from an olive bar, they’ll be a bit drier, so you’ll

need a little more oil.)

Combine ingredients in food processor and pulse until smooth.

RAW TOMATO AND GARLIC PESTO• 1 cup fresh basil leaves• 5 cloves garlic• 1/3 cup almonds• 2 small tomatoes

• 1/2 cup parmesan• 1/4 cup olive oil

Combine ingredients in food pro-cessor and pulse until smooth. Depending on the size and water content of your tomatoes, you

may need less olive oil. Consistency will probably depend on the size and

water content of your tomatoes.  Either way; ridonks awesome.

Both recipes from awomanwhoeats.com

BY MADDY SWEITZER-LAMME

WEEKDAY PASTAby Maddy Sweitzer-Lamme

When my mind can’t make sense of the world,my hands take over.

Chopping onions, slowly.like making lovetomyself

I am making loveformyself.

I feel worn.Like the left shoulder of my denim jacketfrom reaching out to hold the world.

Steam blankets me,reaching from the boiling water to my damp face.Cheese gratedWater stirredWine pouredRhythmically.

I eat,rhythmically.

With words,Black pepper pasta and parmesan,I can heal myself.

BY MADDY SWEITZER-LAMME

BY SHILPA KANCHARLA

HEALING ROOTS

i was the one that always dipped my roots

towards the path of sunlight

or where there were the most nutrients

but for what?

the life to live while forcing myself to bend

every iota of my chloroplasts and xylems

to yield to the wishes of others

and to be molded by nature’s society

and i stopped then i treaded my own path

the harsh winters belittled me

when i did not follow the whim of others

but through it all i grew to the horizon

i cannot say that i somehow made it

because i know that i only made it through

not allowing my spirit to atrophy for a single moment

BY JUSTINE SCHNITZLER

BY ALLORY BORS

In one night, I gained 140 pounds. The weight almost crippled and

paralyzed me- but I hardly remember it happening. I couldn’t get

up- its weight was crushing me. I finally made it out of bed the next

day and looked in the mirror. It was as if I was a completely differ-

ent person. I barely recognized myself. I felt heavier, all at once. I

had to drag myself everywhere- throughout my room, throughout

buildings, throughout campus. I wasn’t used to the extra weight.

It was all over my body, no part untouched. My brain was telling

my body to move, but there was a disconnect between them. A

new obstacle would get in the way, for example, and my mind kept

telling my body, “Move past it. Get over it.” but the weight stopped

me. I started to dress more conservatively. I felt like I had to hide

the weight. For the first two weeks, I couldn’t even get back into

my lofted bed until I got the strength to do so. It had been so long,

my bed felt completely different. Interestingly enough, no one else

seemed to notice. They looked at me the same, but I felt so differ-

ent. It’s strange, I heard it was normal- common, even. But no mat-

ter how common it is, people seem to ignore it. Is it really not that

visible? I cried, a lot. I didn’t recognize my own body anymore. It

wasn’t my body, it was the weight’s body. It controlled everything

I did for the next few months. I can’t explain how heavy it was. As

I’m slowly shedding the weight, I can’t help but to think what I did

wrong for it to happen.

TRIGGER WARNINGSEXUAL ASSAULT / RAPE

BY CALLIE WALLACE

BY RACHEL MAGUIRE

BY MADDY SWEITZER-LAMMEBY RACHEL MAGUIRE

BY MADDY SWEITZER-LAMME

“Listen to me, your body is

not a temple. Temples can be

destroyed and desecrated.

Your body is a forest—thick

canopies of maple trees and

sweet scented wildflowers

sprouting in the underwood.

You will grow back, over and

over, no matter how badly

you are devastated.”

- Beau Taplin

BY DR. TERRI PHOENIX

BY RETHINK-UNC

BY EMILY HAGSTROM

Reasons to love your body

It’s 10:32 PM and you’re running on a deadlinethat falls on midnightand that’s when the spark starts, theinspiration to create,driven by adrenaline, makes us all architectsin worlds of our own design

There is something infinite in knowing that we all dieSomething binding in the desire to endure, tonever expire, whilealways reaching for what can’t be feltor held or keptsome soul in a lump of bone and blood that we call homethat we call bodythat we call churchor prison

So easily do we shit where we sleepthat we forget that our fingertips hold the maps of the skywrinkled constellations spell out everywhere that we’ve beenall that we’ve doneand all that we are destined to doOur third eye, despite all our blunders and acne scars,points North stillStardust leaves a milky trail behind usso even when we try to escapethere is always a way back to ourselves

Bodya space boxed in by skeletoninsides plastered over with posters and post-it reminderscovered with beer-stainsboarded up bedroom walls that we kicked throughwhen we were five and didn’t want our fingernails cutThis is not a manifesto for breaking thingsor fixing themIt is the memory that we built the entire universe in Legoswithin the confines of a ribcageits embrace more empowering than anything that has ever held usWe ought to love ourselves more

Reasons to love your body

It’s 10:32 PM and you’re running on a deadlinethat falls on midnightand that’s when the spark starts, theinspiration to create,driven by adrenaline, makes us all architectsin worlds of our own design

There is something infinite in knowing that we all dieSomething binding in the desire to endure, tonever expire, whilealways reaching for what can’t be feltor held or keptsome soul in a lump of bone and blood that we call homethat we call bodythat we call churchor prison

So easily do we shit where we sleepthat we forget that our fingertips hold the maps of the skywrinkled constellations spell out everywhere that we’ve beenall that we’ve doneand all that we are destined to doOur third eye, despite all our blunders and acne scars,points North stillStardust leaves a milky trail behind usso even when we try to escapethere is always a way back to ourselves

Bodya space boxed in by skeletoninsides plastered over with posters and post-it reminderscovered with beer-stainsboarded up bedroom walls that we kicked throughwhen we were five and didn’t want our fingernails cutThis is not a manifesto for breaking thingsor fixing themIt is the memory that we built the entire universe in Legoswithin the confines of a ribcageits embrace more empowering than anything that has ever held usWe ought to love ourselves more

for we held everything that we ever loved and was loved and could be lovedpinched between our tongues and our teethevery breath that billowed our lungsand made laughter possiblecoursed first through our magnificent and crooked bodiesOur minds are expanding black holesstretched by goals and ambitionWe think up the designbut our hands do the carvingThey are the tools God gave us,they are the forgers of steel,the physical manifestation of our mettlethe tangible parts of us that make our daydreamssee the light of day, so maybewe ought to respect our hands for the reaching they do daily

We could use the forgiveness.For we are only nerves and sweatonly fatally and majestically human and anyway

there’s something beautiful in a body

BY KAT TAN

“self love is important

because it molds us

into a greater versions

of ourselves. trust in

your abilities

to blossom.”

- alex elle

“A woman of color’s self-love is political and radical, and it is

unsettling for the status quo because she is choosing bravely

to dismantle the narratives of racist aesthetics against her.

So when people bully a girl of color for being content and

satisfied with her appearance - a reality that is subjected to

racist, sexist slurs in cosmetic industries - and when they tell

her to be “humble” which is normative code for “Nah, you’re

not special, you’re not light and delicate in a Eurocentric

way” then she has every right to chew their hearts and spit

them out. A non-white girl’s self-love is revolutionary and

anyone trying to water it down needs to back right off.”

-Mehreen Kasana

There exists a power in the demonstration of the female bodyA beauty that resides in the movement of feminist politics So deeply engrained in the exactness of a tut—the structure of a split That it allows for dance to be manifested in all things woman

There exists a power in the display of the female bodyA resilience that is transcribed in the curves of a womanSo deeply engrained in the moving of a waist—an extension of the armThat it speaks to the music rather than being lost in it

There exists a roughness in the presentation of the female body A hard juxtaposition that depicts a sweet-natured devil So deeply engrained in the hard plier of the legs—the jump of a breakdancer That it speaks to the destruction of estrogen by those who wish to silence it

by Rimel N. Mwamba BY RIMEL N. MWAMBA