Issue #1 | February 2020 - Created by the MHS Black Student Union

Issue #1 | February 2020
Created by the​ MHS Black Student Union

Welcome!
Thank you for picking up this copy of T
                                      ​ he Dream​. Whether it has been
thrust into your hands by an English teacher or a fellow student, or
you’ve picked it up from where you saw it idly resting on a table in the
Guidance room, Black Student Union greatly appreciates your decision
to read our zine.
The inspiration for this student-created, student-compiled publication
was another literary publication of a similar ilk. F       ​ ire!!​ was an
African-American literary magazine published in 1926, during the
Harlem Renaissance. Established by Langston Hughes, Zora Neale
Hurston, and Wallace Thurman, F         ​ ire!!​ sought to showcase the Black
experience of 1920s America, through art. The magazine included poetry,
art, fiction, drama, and essays. As Langston Hughes said, F            ​ ire!!​ w
                                                                                ​ as given
its name "​ to burn up a lot of the old, dead conventional Negro-white ideas of
the past ... into a realization of the existence of the younger Negro writers and
artists, and provide us with an outlet for publication not available in the limited
pages of the small Negro magazines then existing." 1
Black Student Union hopes to give F ​ ire!!​ the acclaim and recognition it
deserves, by creating a publication in its likeness. ​The Dream​ takes
inspiration from Langston Hughes, yes, but it is also a testament to the
life and work of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. BSU reaches you as a group
of students who believe they are a small but no less powerful
representation of Dr. King’s dream, his vision for equality and justice.
This magazine presents some of the stories of this group, and more.
We wanted to create something with more personal perspectives. It’s
easy to dance and perform and read statistics out in an assembly, but
there is more insight to gain, we believe, from stories and experiences
that students can actually speak to. Racism cannot be explained away by
facts and figures. Racism doesn’t attack scores of nameless faces but
instead attacks actual people. ​The Dream​ hopes to explore the stories
these people have hidden away, stories that you won’t see from simply
talking to them, or from watching them perform in an assembly.
We hope you enjoy the poems, short stories, and articles we’ve included
in ​The Dream​. We hope we are able to open your eyes to the Black
experience not just in Millburn, but globally.
Kind regards,
MHS Black Student Union

1
 ​Samuels, W. (2000). "From the wild, wild west to Harlem's literary salons", Black Issues Book Review,
2(5), 14. Retrieved July 10, 2008, from Academic Search Elite database.

Hello Beautiful
By Jade Wicker

Hello beautiful princess child,
Your dark eyes go perfect with that light smile.
The coils and kinks of your hair bounce wild,
No other can challenge your unique style.

They’ll ask about your different colored lips,
And even question their great luscious size.
In class when learning of the chains and whips
Stares always find you but ignore their eyes.

Bosses might view your fro as improper,
Even so, a mane is a lion’s crown.
Fierce and bold, shared from parent to daughter.
Ebony is gorgeous so love your brown.

As you grow your intelligence will too,
But don’t ever forget what makes you, you.

                                   Image​:
                                   www.nee​dpix.com

Dear Black People
By Jade Wicker

Dear Black People,

I’m a 17-year-old girl from North Ridge, NJ and I was kinda
hoping you would help me figure out what I did wrong the other
day. I was at this party last weekend with my friends and O-M-G it
was so freaking litt. Litt with two t’s that is. I met this guy and we
really hit it off. That song about “thotianas” by the tall black man
came on and I decided to twerk on the guy that I met, that I
mentioned a sentence ago. Twerking makes me feel sooo ratchet
but I’m actually pretty good at it. After that, I walked over to
where the drinks were to get us some soda and I saw this girl who
was really dark and really big and kinda loud too. But whatever
cause that’s just how ​those p​ eople are ya know. She was really
pretty for a black girl. I touched her braids and went, “Your hair is
so cool. Does it come from another person's head or is it made in a
factory somewhere?” And oh my gosh, you will not believe the
nerve of that girl. She went all angry black woman on me. I was
LITERALLY giving her a compliment and she didn’t even say
thank you. She just went off and was like, “How dare you pet me
like a damn dog!” I was sooo confused, especially with the dog
part of it cuz I freaking love my dog. It’s just such a dumb thing to
get mad about. I wouldn’t get mad if she touched my hair. I’d be so
totally flattered if that had happened to me. I think she thought I
was a racist or something. But that’s impossible cuz my cousin’s
best friend is black… and there are two black people in my gym
class and I have no problem with them at all. I even picked them
both to be on my team when we were playing basketball in class
and, why would I do that if I were racist? Anyways, I left the party
with that guy I mentioned earlier and that’s when I reallyyyyy
knew I wasn’t racist… cuz he was black and why would I be
interested in a black guy if I were a racist, ya know? Also, his

name was Al-jaquan and I didn’t even make fun of how ridiculous
of a name that is. I don’t want to offend anyone so I’ll say colored
instead of black. If you’re a colored person and you’re reading this
please help me understand why the colored girl from the party was
so angry with me. Kk thanks, gtg!

                                     Xoxo​,
                                              Jane Doe

Author’s Note
This piece is a satire that I wrote in order to bring to light the
unintentional ignorance of many people in our community. While
these interactions are based on my personal, real-life experiences,
I know for a fact that this hasn’t just occurred to me. Once again,
my intention is not to “hate on” or bash the people this story is
based on but to share the real things I’ve had said to me. While
this is a fictional piece, the dialogue is genuine and taken from
true encounters. If you feel uncomfortable with the assumptions
Jane Doe makes, or with the double standards that she holds for
herself and for the black people she interacts with, you should.

                                                              - J.W.

Nightmare
By Daniela Akoh

Once upon a time, there was a little girl, in a little house, on a
little street, in an all-too-big world. She slept surrounded by
darkness. It was an absence of light so absolute, it should have
scared her. However, by some miracle, not a single line bothered
her brow, not a single pucker marred her mouth. She smiled in
sleep, skin stretching taut over cheeks still plump with baby fat.
The smile was slow, lazy, heavy. She was happy. It was an unusual
emotion to associate with that darkness. But it did not touch her.
Not yet.

It was a darkness that frightened most children her age. This was
the darkness that made kids quiver in their cots. This was the
darkness from which unimaginable horrors emerged, warts and
all. And emerge, they did.

A figure materialized in the corner of the room. It was darker than
the dark itself. It stretched, contorted, bent until it hovered over
the still sleeping girl. Touched her forehead, impressed itself upon
her. Then, as silently as it had arrived, the figure retreated into the
shadows.

What had the figure put there? Had it given her a nightmare?

No. No nightmares found the little girl that night. What found her
was a dream. In the dream, she was impossibly old (about
eighteen, to be precise, but to any 3 year old, eighteen was a
lifetime away. She was not even sure she could count that far). The
girl, the w
          ​ oman​ really, had long legs, long hair, even long
eyelashes. Why the infatuation with length? To the little girl,
length was just one thing that she herself didn’t have. She did not
realize that length would come, with time, with growth. There

were other things, however, that would not come, whether she was
eighteen or eighty.
Like the woman’s eyes, for instance. Bright blue. Behind tightly
closed eyelids, this little girl’s eyes were dark brown.

Like the woman’s hair, for instance. Straw straight. The little girl
had tight, kinky curls, stiff where they lay in two buns atop her
head.

If there was anything that troubled this little girl tonight, if there
was anything that the night figure had burdened her with, it was
simply longing. She wanted bright blue eyes, she wanted straw
straight hair. She wanted what she could not have, would not have.
The longing was rudimentary in sleep, but when the little girl
woke up that morning, it was a fully-formed urge. So infatuated
was she with the idea, that it was the first thing she told her mum
about when she saw her that morning.

“I want to be white.”

                                   *

The dream stayed with her for a while. The little girl didn’t see
herself as e​ nough​ for years after it. Its lure was only strengthened
when, at school, a young white girl barred her from playing
playground games with her, because “You look like chocolate.” It
couldn’t have sent a clearer message. White was beautiful, white
was pretty, white was ​pure​. Even when the girl began to grow,
when she started to see the length she had longed for in her limbs,
she wasn’t satisfied.

                                   *

Time passed slowly for the little girl. She was 7 now. In the
bathroom, in the little house, on the little street, in the all-too-big
world, she looked at her skin. She had learned her colors. She saw

brown, but she had been told ​black​. She felt dirty, ugly, o
                                                            ​ pposite​.
She turned her hands up, looked at the paleness in her palms. ​So
close​, she thought. But not close enough. There were ways, surely?
Dyes, paint? How had Michael Jackson done it?

The little girl didn’t find dye, nor paint. She found lotion, though,
and slathered it on. Enough to mask the darkness. She turned to
the mirror, expected to see the long, pale, golden-haired goddess
from her dream. She instead found an imitation, crude and
inhuman. White didn’t look good on her.

It was then that the little girl evaluated. She cocked her head to
the side, assessing. White didn’t look good on her… perhaps
because it was not supposed to. After rubbing the lotion into her
skin, brown n ​ ot​ black, it gleamed in the weak bathroom light. For
the first time, the little girl reconsidered. For the first time, the
little girl questioned. The woman in her dream, the white woman
she had so desperately wanted to be, was so clearly n   ​ ot her​. She
was a vision of perfection that, unbeknownst to her, had been
instilled in the little girl, impressed upon her by a dark, shapeless,
grotesque figure that had retreated as silently as it had arrived. A
dark, shapeless, grotesque figure that had made the little girl want
to be something she wasn’t. She was young, but she wasn’t stupid.
This wasn’t just wrong; this was unfair.

Trembling under the weight of the epiphany, the girl frowned, the
frown that was so absent from her young face while she slept,
years ago, shrouded in darkness. Maybe that darkness ​had​ touched
her. And if it had, the little girl knew that what it had planted
within her, the dream, hadn’t been a dream at all. It had been a
nightmare.

Author’s Note
I’d been told many times not to change a thing about this original
piece. I almost agreed. There was something, however, that I felt
was missing about it.

If you haven’t already guessed, the little girl is me. I’m horrified
now by that ‘dream’ I had, stunned by the longing it instilled in me
afterward. I distinctly remember telling my mum I wanted to be
white, distinctly remember s​ lathering​ myself in lotion to become
white. I will forever be deeply upset by those memories. Deeply,
deeply upset.

But there is more to that feeling than sadness; there is genuine
fear. How many other little black girls are brainwashed this way?
How many other little black girls are longing for straw-straight
hair, blue eyes, pale skin?

Let me be clear; there is n​ othing​ wrong with straw-straight hair,
blue eyes, pale skin. There is something wrong with young black
girls wanting to ​have​ straw straight hair and blue eyes and pale
skin, wanting to be something other than themselves. That
prospect is genuinely terrifying to me, and that’s why I wrote this
piece this way.

I wanted to make it more of a fairy tale, something slightly
supernatural but cautionary. I wanted to add that element of fear
to the piece, and I think I have. Reading it back scared the pants
off me. Perfect.

I guess one question now remains: who/what was the dark,
shadowy figure? Society? The media? An actual monster that
roams the streets at night and puts scary thoughts in little black
girls’ heads?

God, I hope it’s not that last one.

Apologies, reader, but I wanted to scare you as much as this scares
me. How’d I do?
                                                             - D.A.

Refraction
By Anne-Marie Akoh

A Vous Tous
Par Anne-Marie Akoh

moi
qui a pensé que sa petite soeur était blanche quand elle venait
d'être née. sa peau semblait si claire, si blanche - celle d’un bébé
nouveau-né. et j'étais jalouse.

Et moi
Qui ne marcherais que sur les carreaux blancs du centre
commercial en espérant qu'ils me rendraient magiquement blanc.
En vain.

Et moi
Dont la peaux est parfois détestée par le caméra et par l'éclairage
quand la photo sort trop noire. yeux blancs, dents blancs, peaux
noire - les étoiles dans un ciel de minuit

Et toi, et vous
A vous tout
A vous tous qui avez lu,
A vous tous qui vous demandez pourquoi j'ai écrit ceci en français,
il est plus difficile de parler de choses comme celles-ci en anglais
quand je sais que tout le monde autour de moi peut me
comprendre.
parce que quand il est difficile d'écrire dans une langue différente,
et quand il est difficile de prononcer dans une langue différente,
et quand il est difficile de lire dans une langue différente,
et quand il est difficile de comprendre dans une langue différente,
alors vous pouvez tout comprendre la difficulté avec laquelle je
dois faire face aux problèmes de ma couleur de peau.

[TRANSLATION]

To You All
By Anne-Marie Akoh

me
Who thought that her younger sister was white when she was just
born. Her skin seemed so clear, so white - that of a newborn baby.
and I was jealous

And me
Who would only walk on the white tiles in the shopping centre
hoping that they would magically make me white
In vain

And me
Whose skin is sometimes hated by the camera and by lighting
when the photo comes out too dark.
White eyes, white teeth, black skin - stars in a midnight sky

And you, and all of you
To you all,
To you all who read this
To you all who wonder why I wrote this in french
It’s hard to talk about things like these in english
When i know that everyone around me can understand me
Because when it’s difficult to write in a different language,
And when it’s difficult to pronounce in a different language,
And when it’s difficult to read in a different language,
And when it’s difficult to understand in a different language,
Then you can all understand the difficulty with which I must deal
with the problems of my skin colour.

Artist Spotlight: ​Kehinde                          Wiley

                                      Le Roi à la Chasse [The King of the Hunt]​, 2006.

Nigerian-American artist Kehinde Wiley is known for his racial
recreation of traditional European portraiture. By creating paintings of
contemporary black people, Wiley draws attention to the lack of
representation in celebrated historical art. Most notably, Wiley amazed
with his 2018 portrait of President Obama, displayed in the Smithsonian,
which elicited much public appreciation.

My Hair
By Bervelie Julien (Berv)

As a Haitian-American, I have gotten many different hairstyles
from the time I was one to now. Some of the different hairstyles
are cornrows, twists with barrettes, kinky twists, and a lot more.
By the time I was thirteen, I started getting box braids, cornrows
with extensions, and lemonade braids. My favorite hairstyle is
lemonade braids because they go in one direction. Over the years,
I have been told that my hair would look better if it were straight,
but that just gets me frustrated. It makes me feel insecure about
myself even though it makes me feel good to have braids. I like
getting braids. Therefore I will continue to get braids.

Overheard in
Millburn High School
Many think that people in Millburn wouldn’t say things like this -
that people you know wouldn’t make racist comments. Sometimes
people don’t realize the racially charged undertone of their
comments. Here are some real-life examples of questions and
comments that are heard every day in the halls of our school.

❖ “Where are you from? No, but where are you r​ eally​ from?”
❖ “Why do black people get a whole month? There should be a
  white history month!”
❖ While reaching for hair or already touching hair​: “Can I touch
  your hair?”
❖ “You look better with your hair straightened.”
❖ “Didn’t you have that same braided hairstyle last month? Why
  didn't you change or wash it?”
❖ “Don’t use the broken outlet, it’s ghetto.”
❖ “I don’t date black girls. They’re too loud”
❖ “Is that your real hair or is it a weave?”
❖ “What do you think about police brutality against black
  people?” “I don’t care about it because it doesn’t affect me.”

Did You Know?
Did you know that band-aids are not found in all skin tones in
local supermarkets or pharmacies? Not only is the whole point of
this medical equipment to protect wounds from friction and
bacteria, but it is also to dress the wound and render it no longer
visible. In other words, band-aids are supposed to blend in with
the user’s skin tone. However, when the Band-Aid brand first had
a TV commercial in 1955, it was modeled on the hand of a white
woman and was called “flesh-colored” for its “invisible” look.

Assigning the term ‘flesh-colored’ to describe only one skin tone
amplifies the exclusion in creating certain products with one skin
tone in mind. It perpetuates the idea that there is a “normal” skin
tone, and any other skin colour deviates from that norm. If every
other shade of skin tone isn’t “flesh”, then what is it? These
questions instill doubt and insecurity in people whose skin colour
doesn’t match that of the Band-Aid. While it may seem like a
trivial thing to be concerned about, that lack of inclusion, pardon
the pun, cuts deeply.

In the present day, one can find more than the standard
pigmented band-aid. While there is only a limited range of shades
or tones, any progress is good progress. You can find the original
commercial on Youtube: h  ​ ttps://tinyurl.com/BandAidAd

What’s Cooking?
Grandma’s Home-Baked Macaroni
Recipe by Cathy Wicker

Ingredients​:
❏ 2 Cans Carnation Milk (12oz each
  - only 16 oz will be used)
❏ 1 box 16 oz macaroni elbows (Boil
  on HIGH)
❏ 2 packs of extra sharp cheddar
  cheese (8oz each) - preferably
  Cracker Barrel but any brand will do
❏ 1 stick of butter (softened and cut into four for easy mixing)
❏ 1 egg
❏ A dash of salt
❏ A few dashes of pepper

Instructions​:
1. In a large pot, bring water to a boil​ a​ nd then insert the pasta
   into the pot.
2. Cook the pasta until tender (see box for further instructions if
   needed).
3. While the pasta cooks, dice the cheese into small cubes and
   put aside. All of it will be used.
4. When ready, drain water from pasta and put the macaroni
   elbows in a deep round oven-safe dish.
5. Add the carnation milk, egg, most of the diced cheese, some
   salt and pepper, and a stick of butter. Stir until evenly mixed.
6. Add the rest of the cheese on top and add a few dashes of
   pepper across the top of the dish.
7. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes or until ready to your
   liking.
8. Serve and enjoy!

Movie Review
Roll Bounce (​ 2005)​ ​PG-13
Review by Jade Wicker

The 2005 film Roll Bounce paints
the picture of an uncommonly seen
world in movies, one where black
people live in nice areas and aren’t
involved in any form of gang-related
violence. While it was more
common for Hollywood films to
show black people in a negative and
stereotypical light, this film
perfectly illustrates a part of American black culture that isn’t
seen very much in the film industry. As African-Americans
protested for desegregated roller rinks, skating became a larger
and larger part of black culture. It became more than just a hobby
for many people. It became a way to connect with members of the
community and for others it was a way to stay out of trouble.

The film stars Bow Wow (formerly known as Lil Bow Wow) as
Xavier, a boy mourning his mother who uses dance roller skating
as a way to cope with his grief. After the rink he and his friends
usually go to close down, they have no choice but to go to
Sweetwater Roller Rink. At the old rink they were considered the
best dance skaters around, but the more upscale rink already has a
star skate team. Xavier and his friends set out to prove themselves
against Sweetness and his team of skaters. This film goes to show
the importance of roller skating in the black community. It also
demonstrates the significance of friendship, especially during
tough times.

Thank You!
Again, the Black Student Union thanks you for picking up this
copy of T
        ​ he Dream​. We want to make clear that the intent of this
publication was not to attack, nor offend. We simply wanted to
open your eyes to the racism that is both blatant and subtle. If
doing so has sparked discomfort, let us know. We’re more than
happy to start discussions about what you’ve read, seen and
learned.

Thank you for your time and consideration. We hope to speak
with you again soon.

All the best,
MHS Black Student Union

Anne-Marie Akoh……………Cover artist and Writer
Daniela Akoh……………………Writer
Bervelie Julien………………....Writer
Jade Wicker……………………….Writer
Ms. Cain…………………………….Editor/Advisor

Coming Soon:
The Dream​ Volume Two

We are currently accepting writing and artwork for our upcoming
volume.

Please email our advisor (Ms. Cain - jessica.cain@millburn.org) by
March 6th, 2020 if you are interested in contributing.

All are welcome.