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Aster(ix) Newsletter #8

Aster(ix) Newsletter #8

Aster(ix) Journal

ASTER(ix) Newsletter #8

Spring 2015

We are thrilled to share with you our Spring issue that celebrates and recreates “Girls in Their Bedrooms,” a pop-up micro-festival of performance, installation and video.  Organized and presented by From the Hive, the artistic collaboration of Gabrielle Civil and Ellen Marie Hinchcliffe, the event took place May 29-30, 2014 at The PoppyCock ArtSpace in South Minneapolis. You should also check out the beautiful poem by Qwo Li Driscoll, one of my favorite short stories by Emily Raboteau, an essay by Vanessa Perez on Julia de Burgos. And if you missed it, Alexis Pauline Gumbs says, Forget Hallmark!

As many of you know Aster(ix) is a work of puro amor devoted to writers, artists, thinkers and activists committed to social change. It runs on crazy midnight-oil kind of energy and thrives on word-of-mouth. So thank you to all of you who tweet, tumblr, reddit, subscribe to our newsletter, who like our FB page and cite us in your work. . Thank you also to those who choose to support through donations and more. Enjoy!

 

Girls in their Bedrooms: A Playlist by Allison Adrian

“In the spirit of girlspeak and unguarded creativity found in intimate spaces, inspired by the show Girls in the Bedroom and sisterly vocal experimentation, I created the following playlist.”

“Aide-Mémoire” (Bedroom Remix) by Gabrielle Civil

“GIVE IT BACK TO ME
GIVE ME BACK MY MEMORIES
GIVE ME BACK TO ME

 
 
 

New in Asterisms

Tal’-s-go Gal’-quo-gi Di-del’-qua-s-do-di Tsa-la-gi Di-go-whe-li / Beginning Cherokee by Qwo Li Driscoll

“They played dead until
the soldiers passed
covered the fields like corpses
and escaped into the mountains
When it’s safe we’ll find you
they promised
But we were already gone
before sunrise”

***

Writing About Julia by Vanessa Perez

No one came to the morgue to claim her body. No missing person’s case fit her description. “

The Structure of Bubbles by Emily Raboteau

“Before I knew what was happening, he kissed me. His full lips were soft and eager. He pushed his tongue into my mouth. I closed my eyes and inhaled his breath. I felt the sandpaper of my father’s stubble against my cheek.” 

Forget Hallmark: Why Mother’s Day is a Queer Black Left Feminist Thing by Alexis Pauline Gumbs

My mother is black. So the means through which I was produced is a matter of national instability. “

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