Issue 2, Volume 1

On THE

RECORD

VOLUME 1 > Issue 2 Spring 2016

BY AND FOR THE YOUTH OF LOUISVILLE

FANTASY SPORTS, REAL MONEY YOUTH ACTIVISTS DISRUPT THE SILENCE ROLLER DERBY: GIRL POWER ON WHEELS

PEOPLE BEHIND the

PAINT [p. 24]

SPRING 2016

CONTENTS OF FANTASY •04 REALITY The addictive nature of fantasy sports.

DIVIDED •06 NEIGHBORHOODS How JCPS countered de facto segregation with a student assignment plan.

AND REVOLT •12 YOUTH Louisville youth are taking the lead in social justice activism.

TOWN SOUND •16 RIVER Louisville hip hop has evolved to become more than just an underground scene, dominating social media and stages near you.

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A WAY TO MAKE A LIVING •22 NOT Local musicians discuss the impact of Spotify and other online streaming sources.

YOU’RE IT •24 TAG, Graffiti artists and advocates for graffiti abatement explain how their work impacts their lives and communities.

NOT HOPELESS •30 HOMELESS, An On the Record editor reflects on her experiences photographing St. John’s Homeless Shelter for Men.

THE BINARY •34 BREAKING The retail market keeps pace as businesses discuss the shift towards gender neutral products.

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IN THE MIRROR •36 MAN Young men speak about feelings of insecurity with their own body images.

DIFFERENT KIND OF DERBY •39 A Louisville’s young women find empowerment through roller derby.

Y FAMOUS •42 VIRTUALL Louisville teens look to YouTube for fans, fame, and fortune.

FOR THOUGHT •46 FOOD A local Vietnamese restaurant brings tasty, authentic dishes to the table.

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36

LETTER FROM THE EDITORS Dear Readers, Our staff knows the value of student journalism. We understand the power youth voices can have in our schools, in our cities, and in the nation.

Our transition from a school newspaper to a city-wide magazine came with the opportunity to write stories that would challenge the status quo and push the boundaries of current student journalism. We admire the work of students our age that are fulfilling these goals, such as the Playwickian newspaper staff from Langhorne, Pa. for refusing refer to their mascot as the “Redskins,” despite pressure from the administration. We admire Kellen Browning and Grace Richey for writing a story in their school’s publication, The HUB from Davis High School, addressing the lack of lunch facilities available and spurring the school board to action. We admire all of the students nationwide that are using their First Amendment rights to create journalism that brings awareness and change. We hope we were able to achieve that in our first issue.

For our second issue, we decided to pursue that goal with stories on the Louisville graffiti scene, teen roller derby leagues, segregation in Jefferson County, and more. Two of our writers, Alice Deters and Karac Medley, scoured the Louisville community for interview subjects relating to different aspects of graffiti culture — illegal artists, legal artists, and the individuals who clean up after them. As you will see in the story, we allowed the use of anonymous sources for the artists. The staff thought long and hard about the purpose of using such sources, and in the end, we decided that names were less important to us than including all sides of the story.

Two writers, Zakeya Baker and Sylvia Goodman, challenged the misconception that only young women suffer from body confidence issues. Our designers spent hours making these spreads the most beautiful they could be. Our photographers worked hard to plan photos that best represent these stories.

This debut year for On the Record was challenging, even frustrating at times, but it was an amazing year that proved to be very rewarding. Not only were we contacted by Great Day Live to appear on their show, we also received an overwhelming amount of positive feedback and support from the Louisville community — both in person and online. With some help from VIA Studio, we launched our own website in early January and have received over 6,000 views to date.

What once was just an idea is now a physical magazine. We are so proud of this staff and the growth we’ve already seen after only producing one issue. As some of us approach high school graduation, it saddens us to leave behind a staff that has been our heart and soul for the past three years, but we know without a doubt that we are leaving behind a team that is dedicated and passionate about bringing a unique perspective of the community through long form journalism, beautiful photography, and eye-catching design. It is with great honor that we sign off as the Editorsin-Chief, and we can’t wait to see what next year’s staff produces.

Sincerely, Josh and Erin Rarely will you read news stories from a youth perspective, but we

believe youth deserve to have a voice in media. This is why we created On the Record, a Louisville newsmagazine created for youth, by youth. In 2015, we transitioned from duPont Manual High School’s school newspaper, the Crimson Record, to a magazine with a city-wide audience and local distribution. Utilizing our training as writers, photographers, and designers, we aim for On the Record to fill a void in local journalism.

On the Record is published by the students of the Journalism & Communication Magnet at

duPont Manual High School, 120 W. Lee St., Louisville, KY 40208. Visit us at ontherecordmag.com.

STAFF Editors-in-Chief Josh Jean-Marie Erin Woggon

Managing Editor Breya Jones

Creative Director Avalon Gupta VerWiebe

Copy Editor Harper Carlton

Writers

Zakeya Baker • Cameron Daniel Alice Deters • Sylvia Goodman Jordan Gould • Meghan Jewell Will Lake • Kim Le Karac Medley • Olivia Millar Chris Roussell • Melissa Scianimanico • Sarah Sullivan Lizzie Ward

Sports Editor Will Kuhn

Photo Editor Sam Sims

Photographers

Chris Collina • Sarah Schmidt Jordyn Stumpf

Design Editor Sam Weible

Designers

Nyah Mattison • Ella Mays Maddy Williams

Marketing Directors

Emily Cieminski • Alice Harris

Contributing Artist Dillon Pinholster

Adviser Liz Palmer

Spring 2016 | 3

The Reality of

W

hen the first Sunday of the NFL season rolled around, Shea Dobson, an 18-year-old senior at duPont Manual High School, was making the final touches on his daily fantasy lineup. He spent the early morning hours preparing his team, making last-minute decisions on what players to put where. Dobson would stress over who to play, hoping that at the end of the day he would make more money than he put in. Dobson’s fantasy world was slowly becoming an expensive reality.

“Websites like FanDuel — they go straight for your jugular,” Dobson said. “I mean, I’ve put 10 dollars in, and all that goes through your head is ‘What could go wrong? It’s 10 dollars; it’s a onetime thing.’”

Dobson is one of 57 million people in the United States and Canada that have taken part in daily fantasy sports, according to a 2014 report by the Fantasy Sports Trade Association (FSTA). Of those, 66 percent were male.

“As soon as you lose money … you’re going to want to put more in. Even if you don’t have an addictive personality, things like this make it seem so easy to play,” Dobson said. “I was pretty close to getting completely sucked into this world before I saw it for what it really is and realized how much money I was wasting.”

Fantasy sports are not a recent invention — the first known league popped up in the early 1950s. Invented by businessman Bill Winkenbach, early fantasy sports games centered around golf, followed by his creation of the first ever fantasy football league in 1962. To play fantasy golf, a

4 | Spring 2016

player would pick a “team” of professional golfers, which is unusual being that golf is a traditionally independent sport. The team that ended with the lowest number of strokes would win the game.

For many years, fantasy sports remained an obscure, little-known hobby. Even after experiencing a surge in popularity during the early 1990s, fantasy sports were far from mainstream, and baseball was the sport of choice for fantasy gurus, rather than football. When more people began to access the internet, the fantasy sports industry quickly skyrocketed into pop culture. In 1999, Yahoo became the first major media company to offer fantasy sports, and by 2003, nearly 15 million people were playing fantasy.

Today, fantasy sports is a rapidly growing industry. During the 2006 NFL season, ESPN began to regularly host hour-long television shows dedicated solely to discussing fantasy football. Football experts give their opinions on which players participants should start and sit, along with who should be added to the waiver wire. On weekdays during the basketball season, fantasy basketball experts make appearances on SportsCenter to discuss the best players to use on a given night. In 2009, FX launched The League, a comedy series centered around a group of friends who play fantasy football.

However, in the past two years, a new type of fantasy game has surged in popularity. Daily Fantasy Sports (DFS) are similar to their season-long counterparts in the sense that users set lineups and are then awarded points based on the stats their chosen players rack up. The major difference lies in the fact that instead of drafting players and

sticking with them for an entire season, users set new lineups and place bets every week. According to Forbes, the DFS industry will generate roughly $2.6 billion this fiscal year.

“It has only exploded in popularity really in the last two years with the mass advertising blitz,” said Dr. Robert Carini, an associate professor of sociology at the University of Louisville who specializes in the sociologies of leisure, sports, family, and education. “I mean, you can’t miss the ads — they’re everywhere — so they’re suggesting that there may very well be more people actually having addiction problems, and it just may take a few years to shake out here.”

Dr. Carini believes that playing fantasy sports can be beneficial to young people.

“Fantasy sports in general can teach a lot of good lessons, like to be able to keep up with the sports news and the personalities. There’s obviously looking at statistics, being able to predict the future with respect to probabilities, and being able to think strategically,” Dr. Carini said. “These are all great skills to develop, and I think very few people really object much to seasons that may stretch over months.”

The thrill of winning is what keeps many users coming back for more. In 2013, FanDuel, the premiere fantasy sports site, had its largest jackpot ever at one million dollars. With a pool of 48 people, the entry fee was only $10 per player. A player under the username “Tspiedo” took home the grand prize. The largest jackpots for daily fantasy sports have risen up to several hundred thousand dollars. In 2014, these jackpots allowed player Matt Smith of Massachusetts to turn a $27 entry fee into one million dollars.

Low entry fees and big prizes are tempting teens.

• words by WILL LAKE, WILL KUHN, & JORDAN GOULD • photos by CHRIS COLLINA • design by SAM WEIBLE The risk of playing paid off for Owen Gant, a 17-year-old junior at duPont Manual High School.

Gant started by putting in only five dollars and ended up winning over a hundred dollars. “If you know about sports, it’s a good thing,” Gant said.

“It’s an easy way to make money.”

Although Dr. Carini recognizes that there are some benefits of playing DFS, he believes that engaging in DFS gambling can ultimately be harmful to young people.

“On the surface, it may seem fairly benign, a little bit of gambling on skills, you know like dice games, board games, simulated gambling, but I do think there is a potential risk,” Carini said. “There have been a lot of studies out there suggesting that if you start gambling young, like at 10, 11, 12, 13, then you are more likely to have a gambling problem later on.”

The FSTA completed research in 2015 showing that the average user tends to spend three hours a week devoted to setting their fantasy lineups. That number may seem small at first glance, but the study also revealed that users spend nine hours simply reading or watching shows focused on fantasy sports.

“If they become fairly addicted to it, it becomes compulsory, it can be cutting into their time with other leisure activities, their schooling, and their friendships.” Dr. Carini said.

Justin Yagey is a 21-year-old junior at the University of Louisville who tried DFS for the first time this year.

“They had a deal where, if you signed up, you got a free 10 dollars,” said Yagey. “I made a

five dollar bet with it and ended up winning 250 dollars because I placed first in the league. I was like, all right, this is awesome, I’m going to keep doing this.”

In spite of his success, Yagey said he would strongly discourage adolescents from using DFS. “I feel like people at my age…are very susceptive to addictive personalities,” Yagey said.

“People our age start experimenting with other things in life, and gambling is definitely addictive,

check and have logical control over them. Certain behaviors and such may not be fully formed for some people when they’re young. If the impulse control isn’t there, that’s when people can begin to get into sorts of trouble.”

The issues over DFS’ legality and its possible repercussions may soon be coming to a head, as several states, including New York, have moved to ban it as a form of gambling. Dr. Carini pointed to Eric Schuterman, a New York attorney who led

“

Websites like FanDuel — they go straight for your jugular. I mean, I’ve put 10 dollars in, and all that goes through your head is, ‘What could go wrong? It’s 10 dollars; it’s a one-time thing.’ especially if you get that taste of victory like I did . . . They think that they can keep going and going and end up losing a lot of money. They say, ‘It’ll be all right; I’ll win next time,’ and just don’t win. And people who don’t have a lot of money to begin with really shouldn’t be gambling it.”

Dr. Carini had concerns about the impact of fantasy sports on adolescent brain development.

“A lot of studies suggest our brains aren’t really fully formed until we are in our twenties,” Dr. Carini said. “In particular, in respect to the aspects of impulse control — the emotions you feel while gambling, and also being able to keep things in

this charge since the end of 2015, alleging fraud based on the ads.

“He’s claiming that they misrepresented the chances that a novice player could win, and the skill level needed,” Dr. Carini said. “But it’s the sense that says, ‘Come on and join, anyone can do it’; well, if anyone can do it, then perhaps it really is a game of chance more than skill, so it is a bit of an ironic thing going on I think that they haven’t fully tested out themselves.”

Time will tell how the battle over DFS shakes out in the courts, but for now, many people, including youth, continue to play.•

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The JCPS student assignment plan attempts to reduce enduring de facto segregation in Louisville.

• words by HARPER CARLTON & MEGHAN JEWELL • photos by MEGHAN JEWELL • design by NYAH MATTISON

T

he low, methodical thump of R&B music pulsed through 17-yearold Ke Ke White’s headphones as she walked south down the sidewalk parallel to Hubbards Lane towards Mall St. Matthews. As the African-American high school senior stepped away from Waggener High School and onto the sidewalk she noticed something. Passing eyes that should have been concentrating on the road flickered up and focused on something else — her.

“When a car goes by, they will look at me and be like, ‘What is she doing here?’” White said.

The feeling of being watched isn’t new to White; the sensation routinely surfaces when she goes into the stores and restaurants near her school. But she only notices glimpses when she’s in one area of town: the East End. On a list compiled by the financial news company 24/7 Wall Street, Louisville ranks fourth of the nine most segregated cities in America. The separation of ethnicities, and different levels of wealth, has existed in Jefferson County for decades; however, the list only takes into account Louisville’s residential division. The distribution of students in Jefferson County Public Schools tells a much different story.

White does belong in the East End, at least, according to the JCPS student assignment plan. In an attempt to blur the socioeconomic lines of Jefferson County, JCPS has placed White at the satellite school of

Waggener to add diversity to the predominantly Caucasian East End. As the largest urban hub of Kentucky, Louisville has a much higher percentage of minorities than the rest of the state. According to the 2010 census, the white population made up 72.7 percent of the total population, the black population made up 20.8 percent, Latinos made up 4.4 percent, and Asians made up 2.2 percent. Whites are 87.8 percent of Kentucky’s population, while blacks — Kentucky’s second largest ethnic/racial group — make up only 7.8 percent of the state’s population.

Like any other major Southern city organized before the Civil War, the layout of 1800s Louisville reflected the slavery and servitude present at the time.

“Whites wanted African Americans living near them to provide service,” said Dr. Cate Fosl, Director of the Anne Braden Institute for Social Justice Research at the University of Louisville.

“That brought about what’s called a layer-cake pattern of growth as a city. You might have a block that’s all white, but starting maybe even in the alley, you’d have a block that was all black.

They were the servants of the whites, but they were also their neighbors.”

The area that is now known as the West End was once a center of Louisville’s wealthy and elite. The slaves, and later paid servants, lived near this area of town because they were needed at the homes of affluent Louisvillians.

Ironically, Louisville and its West End became more segregated after legislators enacted laws intended to make housing fair on

West of Ninth Ke Ke White (17, Waggener High School) goes to an East End school but lives in a West End neighborhood. “When I walk outside in the East End, there’s not a lot of sidewalks, so it makes me feel like I’m not supposed to be walking around,” White said. “When I’m in the West End, there’s nothing but sidewalks. It’s just made for people to walk. You can get around easier that way.”

Spring 2016 | 7

a local and national level. Legal measures to encourage residential integration, like the Fair Housing Act of 1968, culminated in what is now known as “white flight.”

White flight was the movement of white people from more diverse urban areas to the homogeneous suburbs. This was the time that the white population of West Louisville made their exit to the outskirts of the county.

“What happened is that unfortunately just after African Americans had achieved a widespread law supporting their right to open housing, so many whites made a mass exodus out of West Louisville,” Dr. Fosl said.

“So most whites think about West Louisville as all black, which it never has been and still isn’t today. But there was certainly a much higher black concentration after 1966 than there ever was before in Louisville’s history.”

This 1960s departure marks the birth of the Ninth Street divide, with Ninth Street signifying the entrance to West Louisville. To some, it’s an area that seems undesirable.

Haley Wachter is a white junior at Eastern High School and resident of Middletown, both in the East End. While Wachter has lived in Louisville her entire life, she has never been beyond the dividing line of Ninth Street.

“I’ve just never really had a need to go to the West End,” Wachter said. “Not to fall into stigmas, but on the news you hear about a lot of violence and crime coming from the west end of town, and if there’s not a reason to go there, you don’t want to.”

Even though Louisville is more diverse in 2016 than it ever has been, residential areas are still segregated. However, JCPS and the legal system have taken steps to make Louisville’s public schools more integrated.

In 1975, the Supreme Court ordered school districts to institute a student assignment plan to desegregate their schools. Busing was the chosen method — a system of forced integration in which students are transported to schools in different neighborhoods than their own.

While busing was a federal decision, the court placed the burden of implementation upon individual cities and school systems.

Because of white flight, neighborhood schools had become separated in a new way: de facto segregation. In the 1954 case

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Brown v. Board of Education, the Supreme Court ruled that “separate but equal” was unconstitutional and inherently unequal, effectively ending de jure, or legally enforced, segregation in schools. De facto segregation had the same effect of separating races, but it’s caused by the preferences of individuals, self-determined by different types of people.

Hence, busing provided schools with a more effective way to desegregate, even with residential segregation in play.

Jefferson County Public Schools ( JCPS) was one of the districts ordered to

desegregate, but instead of being race-based, the current school assignment plan is based off of Louisville’s changing income levels, housing patterns, and population.

In 2007, the Supreme Court case, Parents Involved in Community Schools v.

Seattle School District No. 1, dictated that schools couldn’t use the individual race of a student to determine their placement in a

East of Ninth Hailey Wachter (17, Eastern High School) has lived in the East End her entire life. “In my neighborhood, if you don’t mow your lawn, my neighbors will get mad and yell at you, saying, ‘That’s against neighborhood regulations!’ I don’t think things like that are the case in the West End.”

school. One of the school districts impacted was JCPS. “When that court order came, the Jefferson County school board reconvened, and they determined that having diversity in schools is important, and it’s beneficial for the students because it offers them real world experiences,” said Barbara Dempsey, the Director of JCPS Student Assignment.

Of the 22 high schools within the JCPS district, 16 reserve space for “resides students,” or students who are automatically admitted to the school based on address. The five schools that are application-only are Brown, Butler Traditional, Central, duPont Manual, and Louisville Male.

Application-only schools and magnet schools are a way to incentivize integration across the district. Magnets are programs which offer classes that are specialized for certain career tracks; they offer skills that range from performing and visual arts to vocational programs. To get into a magnet, one must apply, even if it is at their home school.

“Magnet schools are called magnet because they attract students from other areas, and so we have found magnets provide a lot of natural diversity,” Dempsey said. “They provide a lot of choice and opportunity for students to diversify.”

If a student does not apply to a magnet, he or she is automatically placed at a “resides” or “home” school, which is not necessarily the school that is located closest to him or her. The school district is organized into “resides areas,” clusters of neighborhoods that contain multiple schools that students in those areas can attend.

Resides areas usually correspond to the nearest school, but in an attempt to

“

diversify schools, JCPS implemented satellite areas. The students from satellite areas represent a different demographic class than the schools to which they are assigned.

“If it was just East End kids, our school would lose a lot of diversity, and that’s why they let other people come from different parts of town,” said Wachter. “I don’t think diversity or any lack thereof has contributed to my academic experience, but it has changed some of the school’s culture.”

White lives in a satellite area surrounding Shawnee High School in the West End, but her resides school is Waggener — a 13-mile drive to the East End’s St. Matthews neighborhood.

“I like going to Waggener because I like the different types of people I’ve met, but I would rather go to a school closer to me,” White said. “Living so far away limits my after school activities because I work a lot, and because it’s hard to ride the TARC.” The culture of Waggener, with its diverse students and magnet tracks, is something White wishes could be replicated in her own neighborhood. Waggener itself is not the problem for her, it is the distance between her home and her school.

If White needs to stay after school for an activity, like step team, she must ride the TARC bus home, which could take over an hour. Public buses can serve as the primary transportation for teens who either cannot drive or do not own a car. Transportation to the schools can also prove difficult for parents.

Parent Teacher Associations (PTAs) are a way for schools to supplement money for programs that might not be covered by funding from JCPS. PTAs are also a way for parents to participate in their child’s education and have a direct connection with the administration at their child’s school. Living far away from a school can deter many parents or students from participating as actively as possible.

“PTAs and alumni associations are very important to public schools,” said Allison Martin, JCPS Director of Communications. “They help provide additional programming and equipment to schools that assist with teaching and learning.”

State funds, property taxes, and occupational taxes from across the county are

collected by JCPS and distributed to schools based on a formula regarding the school’s population and staffing needs.

Although living far away from a school can present challenges, some JCPS schools have taken the initiative to mend the gap between parents and teachers.

On March 10, 2016, rather than holding all parent-teacher conferences at school, Westport Middle School held half of its parent-teacher conferences at the Table Cafe, a coffee shop in the Portland neighborhood. While Westport is in the East End, almost a third of its population are satellite students from Portland in the West End. According to WDRB, Principal Jodie Zeller worked with the school’s PTSA to “bring the school to the community.”

The teachers at Westport did this of their own volition — not as a directive from JCPS to organize a satellite location for parentteacher conferences. Nor was there financial compensation. Yet this model is something JCPS is working toward, according to Martin.

“In addition to off-site conferences, our school system is working to take the school application process into neighborhoods,” Martin said. “We have a mobile application bus that travels to neighborhoods to give students more access to the educational choices available within the school district.”

As a policy researcher, Dr. Fosl believes that the JCPS school assignment plan should continue because of the positive impact it has had on desegregating the school system.

That being said, she also recognizes the plan’s faults, like long bus rides and far distances from home to school. She said there should be complementary policies to desegregate housing in Louisville.

“For two generations or more, we have had the experience of going to school together. There is value in that. There is diversity and tolerance in that,” Dr. Fosl said. “Blacks and whites go to school together in Jefferson County. They just do.”

For now, White feels relief when returning from Mall St. Matthews to her school’s double doors. There are no lingering stares, no raised eyebrows. Though Waggener is not in her neighborhood, is a place White feels she belongs.

It’s where she wants to be.•

FOR TWO GENERATIONS OR MORE, WE HAVE HAD THE EXPERIENCE OF GOING TO SCHOOL TOGETHER. THERE IS VALUE IN THAT. THERE IS DIVERSITY AND TOLERANCE IN THAT. BLACKS AND WHITES GO TO SCHOOL TOGETHER IN JEFFERSON COUNTY. THEY JUST DO. Spring 2016 | 9

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Louisville youth are speaking out for what they believe in, tackling everything from political candidates to police brutality.

• words by CAMERON DANIEL and LIZZIE WARD • design by SAM WEIBLE

LOUISVILLE YOUTH AGAINST TRUMP Mia Thompson (18, Manual) and Chris Mura (18, Manual) protest Trump and his supporters at the rally on March 1. “I was nervous once we started because everyone was looking and starting to jeer. Then, everyone got into it and starting cheering. It felt really great, especially as we got escorted out,” Mura said.

Photo credit: Hannah Phillips

March 1, 2016. 5:00 p.m.

The police stood at attention, their hands clasped tightly behind their backs, their feet planted firmly on the concrete. They stood silently, watching. Behind them, Trump supporters yelled without restraint and hoisted signs in the air.

“Build that wall! Build that wall!”

In front of the police, a line of protestors chanted their response: “Love trumps hate! Love trumps hate!”

The shouting became more indignant with each round, signs going higher and higher as the officers looked on.

Atherton High School senior Marta Martin stood in the line of protesters, facing the antagonizing jeers of the Trump fans who shouted through the wall of police.

“We did not move, we just chanted and held our signs,” Martin said.

“While the Trump supporters threw things and screamed obscenities at us, we held our ground.”

Martin was one of many students who protested at the Kentucky International Convention Center where Trump, now the Republican nominee for president, held a Super Tuesday rally. By taking action, Martin defied the stereotype of millennials as lazy, narcissistic and delusional — an allegation seemingly legitimized by a Time Magazine cover story in 2013.

Like many Louisville youth, Martin was driven by a desire for change.

When some Louisville high school students heard the news that Trump would be holding an event in their city, they jumped to action. duPont Manual High School seniors Huda Jabbar, Jahné Brown, and Sarah Olive started a Facebook page titled “Louisville Youth Against Trump” to plan for a protest at Trump’s rally and, according to the page’s description, promote “peace and cultural understanding in the face of hatred, bigotry, and violence.”

Within only a few short weeks, the group had over 350 members.

Spring 2016 | 13

#NEVERTRUMP

Mackenzie Berry (18, Manual) and Jahné Brown (18, Manual) engage in chants outside of the Convention Center after being escorted out of Trump’s rally on March 1, 2016. “We continued protesting after we got kicked out because there were more protestors outside, so we just continued the energy and started more chants. There were even store owners in the area who opened their doors and supported us as we walked out,” Berry said.

“

Photo credit: Hannah Phillips

I’ve decided that I will not idly allow Donald Trump, Ted Cruz, or anyone else, to target the people that I love.

There’s no such thing as being neutral.

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“So many people were ready to join our movement. I felt as though if we could incite a change of attitude for one Trump supporter — after seeing a group of young people so passionate for a cause — it would be enough,” Jabbar said.

Brown, along with co-organizing the Trump rally, has been involved in a multitude of other protests and rallies. Last year, she planned a vigil for victims of police brutality with her school’s Black Student Union, in addition to working alongside young women in Louisville on the topics of intersectional feminism and reproductive justice.

Brown was drawn to activism when she began to realize the dangerous effects of a politician’s speech and actions.

“Hate speech doesn’t just hurt feelings, it actually helps create and support a dangerous, violent America for marginalized people to live in,” Brown said. “I’ve decided that I will not idly allow Donald Trump, Ted Cruz, or anyone else, to target the people that I love. There’s no such thing as being neutral.”

Social media gave women such as Jahné Brown a platform to organize and unite spirited young citizens for a purpose that they passionately believe in — a feat that

“

I don’t consider these people my friends — I consider them my brother or my sister because that is just the type of bond that social justice creates among young people.

demonstrated just how much power this generation holds in its hands. With tools such as Twitter and Facebook, young people are able to instantly inform others about a cause while organizing an event. This ability is one that previous generations of youth activists did not have and one that has completely redefined activism.

Lisa Gunterman, Assistant Director of the LGBT Center at the University of Louisville, has been heavily involved in the Louisville activism scene since she was a teenager, before social media even existed.

“We actually had to pick up the phone and call people and make flyers,” Gunterman said. “I think it’s really amazing what young people are doing with social media to organize and create safe spaces for each other.”

Lisa explained that as a young activist, she always found herself appreciating the older activists that she worked with. Rather than silencing her ideas because she was young, she said they embraced her and offered her ample opportunities to succeed as a leader.

“A lot of people brush off youth and think young people don’t have ideas,” Gunterman said, “but young people have always been on the front lines of every movement. And I really appreciate that people made room for me and gave me space to do that.”

American social justice movements have historically attracted large numbers of youth. During the beginnings of the Civil Rights Movement, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave vocal support to young activists and supported their self-organizing. In 1959, he rallied students against racist law enforcement in Birmingham, Ala. The anti-war movement prevalent in the 1960s also felt a strong youth influence. In the famous 1969 Supreme Court case, Tinker v. Des Moines Independent School District, school administrators forbade students to wear homemade black armbands in protest against the Vietnam War. When the case reached

the Supreme Court, the students came out victorious, setting a precedent for free speech in public schools that continues to influence policy and legislation.

Some victors of these movements publicly throw support to youth activists today — including Mary Beth Tinker, one of the plaintiffs in the Supreme Court case, who tours the nation in support of student speech and activism.

Louisville Male High School senior Ahmaad Edmund agrees that past generations are beginning to recognize the influence of today’s youth.

“I think people have actually started to listen not only to myself, but to various other young people who are in this particular age range,” Edmund said. “They say ‘wait a second, they actually have the same ideas that we have as adults.’”

Edmund has been active in his community since 2008, when he became a youth minister at Pleasant View Baptist Church in downtown Louisville. Since then, he has worked at the mayor’s office and served on the Muhammad Ali Center’s Council of Students (MACCS), through which he has met and befriended youth throughout the city.

“These young people are amazing, bright individuals that really value each other. It’s like a friendship — more than a friendship — like a sisterhood or brotherhood kind of thing,” Edmund said. “I don’t consider these people my friends — I consider them my brother or my sister because that is just the type of bond that social justice creates among young people.”

Today’s youth protesters are not working in vain. Photos and video from rallies continue to blow up social media — and support for youth voices continually grows.

“Your voice is important and makes a difference whether you are using it to protest, educate, write op eds, or volunteer,” Brown said. “Everyone can be an activist.” •

UNITED WE STAND Jahné Brown (12, duPont Manual High School), President of the Manual Black Student Union, and Brandon Colbert (freshman, University of Kentucky), begin their vigil for victims of police brutality at the Carl Braden Memorial Center on May 3, 2015 The Black Student Union organized the event in light of recent deaths such as those of Michael Brown and Freddie Gray.

Photo credit: Josh Jean-Marie

Spring 2016 | 15

MARCH DABNESS During the 30-hour party at the newly renovated Speed Art Museum on March 12, Rosario and Lougz Gee performed for “March Dabness,” a single elimination hip-hop tournament.

Photo credit: Josh Jean-Marie

river tow words by ALICE DETERS & CHRIS ROUSSELL • design by ELLA MAYS

A

group of men in their early to mid-twenties surveyed the crowd arriving at the New Vintage. With each additional attendee, the men looked around at each other, nodding with satisfaction: this kid could pull — this “kid” being the evening’s young headlining rapper, Jack Harlow.

In the foyer sat a fully equipped bar that many of the night’s audience could not enjoy, due to the fact that the sold out, 300-plus crowd was heavily comprised of teenagers. In the performance hall, teens stood body to body on the floor, lining the walls, crowding on countertops and couches. Rather

16 | Spring 2016

than suffocate from the heat, the adults gravitated towards the back. Soon the escalating anticipation was nearly unavoidable, the tension cut only by the crowd’s buzz. Then the whole place exploded.

Harlow had arrived.

“It’s crazy how many people want to be rappers,” said Harlow, an 18-year-old senior at Atherton High School. “I have a theory that every white kid has secretly written a rap, whether it’s public or not.”

His own story, at least, follows his theory. In sixth grade, Harlow and his friends began writing and recording raps with nothing but a Guitar Hero

microphone hooked up to a computer. What started out as a pastime soon became Harlow’s passion.

“I’ve just always been into writing; I am a writer,” Harlow said. And, when his love for music and fascination with writing come together, the crowds found it to be magic.

“It’s a great feeling,” he said, “because it’s something you created. It’s like your baby.”

Crowds reacted positively to his performances, and Harlow began to take rapping more seriously.

Soon his baby matured into a fully grown adult.

Now, only a year since playing his first live show, Harlow is rapidly gaining prominence locally

wn sound

Part two of a series exploring Louisville’s evolving music culture

— specifically among the teenage population — leading him to co-headline venues like Mercury Ballroom and open for acts such as Vince Staples at Headliners Music Hall. Most recently, Harlow performed at the Louisville Palace alongside the nationally recognized hip-hop duo Rae Sremmurd and prominent Louisville-born rappers Rosario and Lougz Gee. “Hip-hop is a young man’s game,” Harlow said.

But they’re playing in an older man’s arena.

Robert Bell is a hip-hop enthusiast and Ph.D. candidate in American Culture at the University of Michigan who grew up performing in and

attending shows in the Louisville hip-hop scene. He remembers hip-hop of the late 90’s as defined by DJs, parties and battle rapping, which facilitated a community and shared culture.

Today, Bell sees the scene as a series of unrelated performances. From his perspective, the culturally tight-knit hip-hop community has faded over the last two decades.

“Back then, the shows held the community together,” Bell said. “They felt like they fulfilled parts of your personal needs, like your soul was being fed, and it felt like you were part of something bigger than yourself.”

To their advantage, younger musicians have grown up in the age of technology, making means of production, marketing, booking and distribution easier, cheaper and more individualized. However, it may be more difficult for fans to feel as if they are contributing to something bigger than themselves, because physical crowds aren’t as important to an artist’s success as they used to be. Yes, new artists still need an audience to gain popularity, but new and improved outlets have attracted masses to online venues, as well as tangible performance halls. Reaching more people in these ways may lead to less face-to-face interaction within the local

Spring 2016 | 17

hip-hop community, but artists have the ability to “out market” the older musicians in a way that diminishes the importance of geographic boundaries and brings more national audiences. Social media, in particular, has expanded young hip-hop artists’ scope.

Rosario, Lougz Gee, and Bryson Tiller are names present on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat, reaching ever-changing, ever-widening, and ever-growing audiences.

In order to expand his horizons, Harlow followed suit, taking his talents online through YouTube, Twitter, and Facebook — and boy, did people listen. With almost 6,000 Twitter followers and even more on Instagram, Harlow’s popularity is slowly growing.

“It’s a weapon,” Harlow said, regarding social media. “It’s what kids are on these days. It’s the most powerful thing to do.”

According to a 2013 survey conducted by the Pew Research Center, an organization that specializes in social science research, 94 percent of teens are active online, and 91 percent go online using mobile devices. The availability of smartphones and smart technology has vastly increased teens’ access to new information, specifically music, with digital music service sites such as Spotify and Soundcloud just a tap away. Greater communication and more connections via music-oriented apps or websites, as well as more popular social media outlets, have produced an influx

‘‘

Bell attributes this trend to today’s scene being single-based rather than album-based, meaning people listen to and purchase individual songs rather than entire albums. Therefore, artists more often release singles, which are easier to promote via social media and add to the fast-paced scene.

While some artists have experienced an increase in attention due to active social media engagement, equally impactful artists outside the technological bubble do not reap the same benefits. In short, public perception of artist contribution is warped.

“Social media has made more people larger than they are,” Jones said, emphasizing that younger musicians may seem to be in control simply because they dominate the technology aspect of hip-hop, the most accessible part of the scene.

But, an online presence is just the tip of the iceberg. Below the surface lurks Louisville’s thriving underground hip-hop scene, teaming with veteran artists.

“I would still describe Louisville’s hip-hop scene as very viable, but very underground, meaning that over the years we’ve had several groups that made it with some recognition, but none of them has really made any major impact in, you know, besides Louisville,” Jones said.

Although Louisville has never been known nationally as a hotbed for hip-hop, the town can still point to a number of successful musicians who

Here in Louisville, some older rappers, musicians, and producers alike take younger artists under their wings, perhaps hoping a bit of experience or knowledge rubs off on the newbies.

of fresh artists and a new definition of mainstream.

“Social media has kind of messed up the norm,” said Ben Jones, owner of Better Days Records. “I’ve been in the business for 30-plus years and I sell plenty of music that I know, but also plenty of music that I know nothing about.”

According to Jones, social media now determines the public’s playlist. Instead of radio stations determining what songs the public will hear, giving people a limited choice of music that could become popular, the public now largely decides what will be played on the radio or what will be sold in stores. Social media allows audiences to bypass the controllers, opening up a broader music selection.

“We’re selling more hip-hop music that’s not even a hit. It might be a hit on social media, and that’s how it’s got its following, but it’s not a hit on the radio or a hit in the community,” Jones said.

18 | Spring 2016

have paved the way for Louisville’s scene today. For example, Nappy Roots, a local rap group from the 90s, was brought to regional and national attention when they were nominated for an MTV Video Music Award in 2002 and a Grammy in 2003.

But hold up: that doesn’t mean the new kids on the block don’t spit.

Even though older musicians continue to be the driving force behind how today’s scene operates — through producing, owning recording studios and venues, and organizing events — young artists are the ones the public hears about. Some are even gaining the regional and national market that artists of the ‘90s and 2000s could not achieve.

A new wave of artists has been dominating locally for the last 10 years: Jalin Roze, who won the LEO’s Louisville Hip Hop Artist of the Year award in 2013 and 2014; “1200,” or Jecorey Arthur, who has

steadily gained a strong following; Skyscraper Stereo, a group that has made waves regionally since 2006; Harlow, the up-and-coming 18-year-old rapper sitting on top of the teenage demographic; and producer Ace Pro, who has worked with Harlow and Tiller, among others. The list goes on and on.

With this said, the impact of those who have come before is still felt throughout the entire hip-hop community — even some of the prominent artists, producers, and organizers of the ‘90s and early 2000s, such as Father Jah, continue to work and develop Louisville hip-hop behind the scenes.

“The people that I see putting shows together, that I see getting the huge shows, are people in my age group,” rapper Kogan Dumb said. “I don’t think the younger people are in control.”

Harlow disagreed, saying older rappers, such as Dr. Dundiff and Friends, have consistently similar audiences of people their age — 20s and older — at every show.

“It’s like this family of friends playing for each other, you know; half the crowd is other rappers,” Harlow said.

Harlow did say that older artists have put in more work than he has, but he thinks their stagnant audiences could result from not having aspirations above playing local bars or possible lack of engagement online. In addition, bringing the same audience time and time again does not gain new traction.

Bell recognizes that the new generation’s selffocus differs from that of their predecessors and may add to the fact that the young artists are rising quickly.

In the ‘90s, Bell saw the city’s hip-hop performers fostering the scene with a goal of having a local presence. Older artists were not as worried about fame or getting on the radio; that would come naturally. In contrast, he sees today’s young rappers as being more focused on personal success.

Take Harlow as an example.

Harlow does not consider himself part of the Louisville scene because his aspirations are above the local level; he wants to have more of a regional, if not national, presence. While this can be expected of an aspiring musician, Bell notes such attitudes are what may be fracturing today’s hip-hop community.

Let’s take it back to the old days again.

Before social media arose, hip-hop artists gained listeners the old fashioned way: posters, word of mouth, attendance at local events, and handing out physical album copies. In the present though, those methods do not always get the job done.

“It’s still real hard for us to do the old school way: tell people ‘hey, there’s going to be a show at Mercury Ballroom, or The Palace, or at Legend’,” Jones said. “So, we still have to do a lot of work to even get people to know where and how things are being pushed in Louisville.”

To avoid the limits of the old school ways, younger musicians, again, have turned to the Internet

no time for breaks So far, experimentation has taken Dumb to another level of recognition in the Louisville scene, but he makes a point of not letting his dreams get ahead of him.

“I think my progression has been more visual,” he said. “Instead of just having words rhyme, I wanted to create more visuals. I wanted to create more pictures with my words.”

Photo credit: Sarah Schmidt

#502ComeUp

For the public, “502 Come Up” has become a cheer across the city: a celebration of local communication and interaction that has renewed belief in Louisville artists and their music. To artists, the phrase is a badge of honor distinguishing those worthy enough to represent local hip-hop.

for business dealings. But pushing ahead comes with a price.

“Social media has taken the soul out,” Jones said.

In other words, the internet discourages the type of face-to-face engagement that artists used to rely upon.

And even while some artists stick to older methods of communication and distribution, Louisville’s younger scene has sacrificed intimacy for the exposure the new technology spawns.

But that exposure has gone a long way towards sparking interest throughout the city.

“I think Louisville is realizing what we have,”

1200 said. “From embarrassed about the hip-hop scene to flaunting it is quite the shift.”

“Everybody has that twinkle in their eye again,” Kogan Dumb said. “I think for a lot of people it got to a point where they got tired of it. The audience wasn’t into it, people were expecting something typical.”

Because technology has rendered community standards or expectations less important, current hip-hop artists have been able to develop their own styles, countering the public’s apparent boredom with bolder, riskier music, kickstarting local enthusiasm and doing away with predictability.

The result? A unique hip-hop scene characterized by experimentation and collaboration.

Some older rappers, musicians and producers have taken younger artists under their wings. Kogan Dumb mentioned how he has attempted to pass on his own knowledge to a young rapper in hopes that he can bypass unnecessary setbacks.

“I’ve been taking him to shows with me and showing him the ropes and trying to tell him all the things that I did wrong to where he can skip past all of those things and get to a better place faster than I did,” he said.

Spring 2016 | 19

‘‘

Photo credit: Urban Wyatt

It’s just about doing new things and stepping out of your comfort zone — the s--that scares you is usually the healthiest s--- for you to do.

MERCURY BALLROOM Jack Harlow performed at a free 21+ concert at Mercury Ballroom on Jan. 29 as part of a week of free concerts.

Partnerships between old and new, the expanding reach of young artists and the stable underground scene have all contributed to Louisville’s multifaceted music.

“We don’t sound like one anything. I feel like Atlanta sounds like Atlanta, Atlanta artists; New York, New York artists, they sound like that… Us? We sound like a mash of a lot,” Kogan said. “People don’t know what they’re going to get when we get there. I think people are shocked every time they hear us, like ‘I wouldn’t expect that to come from Louisville.’”

According to Jones, the city’s ever-changing sound cannot solely be attributed to Louisvillian contributions — it is unique, in part, because of the way it incorporates outside influences to create not just one overarching culture, but many small pockets of cultures.

“Since we already have our own flavor, we’re kind of like a small melting pot, because, there are a lot of out-of-towners that come through,” Jones said.

In other words, Louisville is not simply a hub for other cities’ music: it is a place that fuses outsiders’ varying styles, genres, and feels with its own personal oddities, producing a distinct Louisville sound.

As Jones noted, “We have always gotten lots of praise, and I’m talking about from New York magazines to Chicago magazines to the social media and other places; we get recognized about being very unique being in Kentucky.”

Now, the praises of others have met with those of a public that finally supports new artists and their new ideas. So, the pressure is on to take advantage of an opportunity to gain popularity.

20 | Spring 2016

“I’m seeing a lot more artists now, and a lot more good artists, because the scene gets very competitive. Everybody’s putting their best foot forward,” Kogan Dumb said.

“People need to be seeing you progress,” Harlow said. “It’s just about doing new things and stepping out of your comfort zone — the s--- that scares you is usually the healthiest s--- for you to do.”

An overall more open-minded audience has made stepping out of the comfort zone easier.

According to Kogan Dumb, listeners and musicians have been exceptionally tolerant over the past few years.

“I think the culture here is changing.

To me, when I was younger, it was a lot more close-minded,” he said. “Over time, Louisville is becoming less close-minded and more receptive to new ideas.”

1200 remembers the unique Louisville atmosphere from when he started rapping at age 10. But now, the crowds are catching up with more support than ever before.

“The craziest thing is, it was exactly how my concerts are now - the theatrics, the music, the people I perform with, everything,” 1200 said, describing his first concert at the Magnolia Bar in Old Louisville. “The biggest differences now are that my stages are bigger and my audiences are larger.”

This is considering the very few solid venues Louisville has available that allow artists to perform in front of mass 18-and-up audiences, the most profitable age group.

“Something about our music scene, with the venues we have, we do find a way to support

in a small way, and that’s the reason why it never dies,” Jones said. “It doesn’t matter about social media, come check us out. Come and check out the vibe, the feel. Once you have that experience in Kentucky, when you go anywhere else you will be so amazed like, ‘Oh no, at home we do it and we feel, oh you all don’t do nothing like what we do.’”

In order to keep the audiences on edge and the music in a state of continuous change, Jones noted that the Louisville scene has to live up to the madness and the standards it sets for itself.

“Quit making it a hype. You’ve got to make it a reality, and you can’t make yourself larger than you are,” Jones said.

At last, that dream, that “hype,” is slowly becoming real.

As soon as Harlow finished his last song, the crowd began to disperse and head home. All that remained were about 20 teens huddled together in small circle in front of the stage acting more subdued as they watched the next performer. A few adults sat at the bar.

But that was only inside.

Outside in the cool, damp evening air, the sidewalk is lined with kids waiting for rides and trying to figure out plans for the rest of their Saturday. A small crowd began gathering in front of the stage door where Harlow, who stepped outside to cool off, was talking with fans and friends. After one of his most successful shows to date, the 18-year-old enjoyed post-gig relaxation, but he knows he must keep moving forward. While the New Vintage was good, he wants better; the people want better. Hip-hop finally has its mainstream stage, and Louisville is listening. •

There’s no better time to be a Louisville Cardinal.

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Y A W A T O N

Illustration credit: Sam Weible

A E K A M TO

e h t n o s e c i v se r g n i m a e r t s lore W i th p x e s n a i c i s u rise, local m ard e h e b o t s n e w m e an

N I V I L

R MILLA MS LIVIA O IA L y b IL s • word by MADDY W n ig s e •d

I

t was broad daylight on a spring day in 1985, and Clark Johnson knew that he needed to do something big to get people to notice his band, Squirrel Bait. Johnson and his band members snuck up to the local record shop, Pyramid Records, with a tub of wallpaper paste and a stack of flyers promoting their upcoming show. They rounded the side of the store to the wall facing Bonnycastle, yanked out their brushes, dipped them in the white glue, and sloshed the paste onto the temporarily bare wall. Before anyone could notice them, they grabbed their flyers, lined them up, and covered their canvas. “It was a pretty nasty thing to do, but it was fun,” Johnson said.

Johnson also handed out flyers, wrote fanzines, submitted albums for review to magazines, sold CDs, and pestered his friends to get the word out about his band. Now, Pyramid Records is no longer in business, and according to Drew Guarini of the Huffington Post, “CDs are dead.” Local musicians don’t even have to leave the house to get potential fans to listen to their music— they have the Internet.

22 | Spring 2016

Spotify launched in the United States on July 14, 2011, and according to Victor Luckerson of Time, “Spotify has paid out $500 million in royalties to rights holders so far in 2013 and $1 billion total since 2009, about 70 percent of its total revenue.”

Yet, in 2014, the media blew up because of Taylor Swift’s withdrawal of her music from Spotify.

She took her music off this platform for many reasons, but according to Time, her main motivator was the lack of appropriate compensation. She argued that her music was worth more than the royalties Spotify offered.

Big-name musicians, even when receiving hardly any royalty, still get millions and millions of plays. But local musicians do not have that extensive of a fan base or number of streams, so the money they gain from Spotify is usually much less.

“Spotify says that its average payout for a stream to labels and publishers is between $0.006 and $0.0084,” Stuart Dredge of the The Guardian wrote. “The average payment to an artist from the label portion of that is $0.001128 – this being what a signed artist receives after the label’s share.”

According to Dredge, a signed artist needs 1,117,021 streams to earn the same as a monthly minimum wage ($1,260). Unsigned artists needed at least 180,000. Using physical CDs, an unsigned artist would only have to sell about 105 units to meet monthly minimum wage.

“Bands that decide to send their music to Spotify can benefit,” said Kristin Thompson, an independent record label owner and a member of the Future of Music Coalition, a national nonprofit organization that is a supporter of musicians. “The songwriters can earn both a public performance royalty, and the performers can earn a streaming royalty. However, these payments are fractions of a penny per play, so it takes a lot of streams to really make them useful on their own.”

Louisville musician Tim Furnish has played in bands such as Cerebellum, Crain, and Parlour for about 26 years. Furnish received an email from Jeremy Devine, the owner of Parlour’s label, Temporary Residence, explaining why the label plans to withdraw their associated bands’ music from Spotify.

G N The email stated that “[Temporary Residence] feels very strongly that on-demand streaming services are not a financially tenable method for the longevity of the label or any of our artists.

This decision comes after a year of considerable thought and consideration with all variables considering sales, marketing and promotion.

Massive numbers of streams are not translating to higher concert ticket sales, not translating to higher record sales, and not translating to any licenses for TV and film.”

Furnish was also told that it took 157 streams to equal the same amount of money earned by one track sale on iTunes.

He remembers what it was like to be a musician before the Internet; he was in his first band at 17, playing the synthesizer. His first major band, Cerebellum, would do anything to publicize themselves, just like Squirrel Bait. He specifically remembered sending many tapes out to record labels. “You would send recorded demos or tapes to a label, and you would hope that they would find the time to listen to it. But, the reality is that

her or know her music because of Spotify. She doesn’t remember selling CDs and merchandise fondly: “We sold stuff cheap, because, well, people felt sorry for us,” she said.

Now, with her music online, she receives statements every six months from iTunes, radio airplay, and Spotify.

“I don’t know how I feel about Spotify. It’s hard to know what to do because no one really wants to buy a CD anymore. . . so you have to do something. You don’t really get that much money per play, not nearly as much as you would get from radio. The amounts of money are not comparable. But, that’s just how it is, so you have to sell a lot of tote bags basically,” Irwin said.

However, some musicians, like William Baumler of Twenty-First Century Fox, believe that Spotify is neither a good nor bad thing, and is somewhat irrelevant to local musicians. “I don’t think that Spotify and Pandora have much effect on local musicians less famous than My Morning Jacket or Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy. Most local bands make the majority of their music sales in person, at shows,” Baumler said.

ABC News’ Peter Kafka supports Baumler’s statement: “The concert business has never been bigger, in dissonant contrast to the recorded-music business.

While music sales have dropped for three years in a row, from $13 billion to $11.5 billion in 2002 . . . the tour business has climbed for four years straight, from $1.3 billion in 1998 to $2.1 billion last year. Thus musicians increasingly rely on road shows for their income.”

Baumler also thinks that Spotify is a fleeting craze they had mountains and mountains of submissions, and will soon leave for good. “As technology progresses, and it’s pretty much a joke; no one ever listens to the flow of information becomes harder to control, and that stuff,” Furnish said. intellectual property becomes harder to commodify,” Furnish never really saw the effects of Spotify Baumler said. “In other words, I think that services like on his band. In only one incident did his band Spotify will struggle to remain profitable and will either actually come up in conversation through Spotify. make less money or be replaced by services that provide “I was talking to a guy at work, who doesn’t the same functions at lower cost.” know me at all, and he was asking me what I did, But no one know how streaming services will evolve and I said that I played in a band called Parlour.” next, or even if they could go away entirely.

The man immediately perked up and asked “[The music industry] has changed completely, Furnish if his band had a cover with bees on it. in every way. Social media is one thing, but in the past, Furnish replied yes, and the man exclaimed, “Holy there was also no digital music, no Internet,” Johnson s---, I like them!” said. “So today, people largely buy songs, not albums, “So I was like, wow, there’s one of the which are totally different. I think the Internet has benefits; as far as getting my music out there changed music entirely, in terms of how it’s promoted, and having strangers unknowing of [my band] how it’s purchased, and how easy it is to connect with come across us, and it feels good that at least people.” Instead of covering a wall in Squirrel Bait flyers, there’s that kind of connection being made. all Johnson would have to do to spread the word about . . . In one way, I like the fact that people can his band would be pressing the “post” button. be exposed to new music, but it’s not a way to Johnson recalls saving up money for weeks to make a living,” Furnish said. ride his bike to the record store and buying a record at Catherine Irwin, a solo artist and member random, but now he can summon any music he desires at of Freakwater, has never had anyone come up to the tips of his fingers.•

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TAG, YOU'RE IT

MY NAME IS...

Graffiti artist Riley Gregor stands next to his work on a legal graffiti wall. “The more vibrant the colors are, people like it, you know, they like my things and that’s me bragging. That’s me getting out there and being flamboyant,” Gregor said. “Graffiti is just my alter ego; it’s my more confident alter-ego that I am able to hack into whenever I want.”

24 | Spring 2016

The buffs and the bombers continue to wage urban war.

Cold sweat ran from Paner’s brow down to his hands and dripped off the top of Louisville’s abandoned ice factory onto Shelby Street below. He would have wiped the distraction away, but his fists were locked in a hard grip, holding his friend Soare by the shins — upside down. Soare’s face reddened as he tried to keep still, driving a paint roller down the wall, nose scraping against the building’s weathered brick carapace. He hoped the drastic transformation would be worth the risk.

“We had gotten on the top, and I was literally hanging him by his legs, dangling off this 20-story building,” said Paner, the alias of a 16-year-old graffiti writer from the group RCK, or River City Kids. “Everything is so quiet and then there’s just this little ambiance of just cars and the city going on under you while nobody has any clue that you’re up there.”

Soare, the alias of Paner’s older friend, introduced him to the world of graffiti. That night, Paner and Soare were bombing, another word for illegally painting “throw-ups” or “tags”— simpler works.

“That was the craziest place: the ice factory,” Soare said, “and we had a bunch of people there. It wasn’t really that late at night. It was about 10 p.m., which is too early to be doing that kind of stuff, but was someone gonna break their neck to see what we were doing up there?”

Paner and Soare won’t argue that what they do isn’t reckless, even insane, but such endeavors are part of their passion.

“Really it’s just a way to express myself,” Paner said. “I like the whole idea of it and just going out there and putting art on something that’s so bland.”

Graffiti is a risky process, and even if the writer isn’t hanging off of the side of a building, there is the constant threat of being arrested. The first time Paner and Soare were arrested together, Soare’s mother exploded at him.

“I don’t really like that story very much,” Soare said. “It was completely our fault; we were tagging in the middle of the day, and we knew we shouldn’t have been doing it. I had been painting for two years.”

Paner, on the other hand, had only been writing graffiti for about two weeks.

“Next thing I remember is that we’re in a cop car, swearing up and down that we would never, ever, ever paint again, that we were gonna be good kids and stop writing,” Soare said.

He repeated this for his first few arrests, but still found

• words by ALICE DETERS & KARAC MEDLEY • photos by CHRIS COLLINA • design by NYAH MATTISON

himself captivated by the process and always returned to his spray cans.

“This is probably a really bad idea, but I don’t really care,” Soare said. “I wouldn’t recommend it. In the end, graffiti is immature. Still, my life would be a lot worse without it.”

Not all graffiti writers paint solely in the streets. Aemo, the alias for a 23-year-old legal and illegal graffiti writer in Louisville, has worked at venues ranging from concerts at universities to tour buses, but he always comes back to the alleys where he began.

“What he would do, I would do,” Aemo said, describing his high school experience with a friend who was already getting into graffiti. “He actually started sketching graffiti, and he knew some graffiti artists through the school itself, so when he started making graffiti, I said ‘Hey, that’s pretty cool.’ I had always looked at it, passing by, and I was always fascinated by it, because it poses questions. I just kind of picked up from there, and I’ve been painting ever since.”

Aemo’s reason for painting is ubiquitous across art forms: he does it for the sake of expressing himself.

“I paint for personal satisfaction,” Aemo said. “Not in the sense that I like destroying other people's property, but more so that I like to see my name everywhere. I explained it to someone else, that me doing graffiti is my way of leaving a mark on society, when in a normal day I may not have left a mark.”

Whether some of this self-expression results in crime is hardly a question; however, Aemo does do a variety of legal pieces. When he profits from legal painting, Aemo often uses the money to invest in resources for more projects, buying different types of spray paint and nozzles to perfect his work and simultaneously growing his name.

Self-identified graffiti writer Riley Gregor (20) agrees with Aemo: graffiti is all about the artist’s legacy.

“Graffiti is more about yourself; it’s all about your ego, and the more you get it out there the more this false persona grows,” Gregor said. “It’s your alter-ego. They call it the Superman effect. You know, you’re Clark Kent during the day, and then at night you’re Superman, going around and no one can see you.”

Gregor has transitioned into a legal graffiti writer and has given seminars on the subject of graffiti and street art at North Carolina’s High Point University.

“I’ve heard people say that, ‘if you’re not bombing the street everyday, then you’re not a graffiti artist, you’re just an

Spring 2016 | 25

artist.’ I say it just depends on what you believe,” he said. “You can always keep being the kind of guy in back alleys, or take what you love off the street. And that’s your decision; that’s who you are.”

However, what most artists see as a major part of their lives, others call vandalism. Graffiti is, in most instances — save various legal walls or paid pieces — illegal and punishable in varying degrees. One of the most stinging punishments is the complete removal of a graffiti writer’s work.

The Graffiti Abatement Coalition of Louisville (GACL) is a “buff ” organization, a group that recruits volunteers to paint over graffiti in Louisville. It urges members to “adopt the 48-hour gold standard for graffiti removal” and report graffiti if it remains un-buffed within that time frame. As stated by the GACL’s website, “Graffiti vandalism is a symptom and seed of urban blight.”

According to Aemo, “buffs,” a slang term for people who paint over graffiti, can be quite persistent in keeping the community clean and respectable. Aemo’s favorite tagging spot, a pole outside of Spinelli’s, keeps both sides of the conflict busy.

“I love tagging on that pole,” he said, “because every single morning, the buff guy comes and paints over it. Every single morning. And every single day, and every single night, we write on it. It’s like an ongoing battle. I took a screwdriver to the pole the other day and chipped away the paint; the paint was about a centimeter thick.”

The game of tag continues all over Louisville. Some graffiti abatement workers, such as Ralph Weible, who is a part of Highlands Graffiti Abatement, go out nearly every day to remove or at least cover up the spraypainted tags thrown up the night before. Though he is paid through the Highland Commerce Guild to remove graffiti within a few of the city’s districts, he will often go outside of his allotted area to cover tags.

“It’s mostly civic pride. That’s why I go out in other areas that I’m not being paid to do,” Weible said. “If there was a way that I could get the entire city I would.”

Paner and Soare’s work on the ice factory was painted over within a week.

“It really sucks to see something you spent hours on taken down the next day, but that’s usually what happens,” Soare said.

“You can’t paint somewhere in the Highlands. You’ve got to find an abandoned building, else it’ll be gone immediately. It’s part of the experience of being a graffiti writer.”

But the experience, as it turns out, can be expensive. Paint and other art supplies aren’t cheap. Soare found a way around this obstacle.

“I’ve been stealing it for about four or five years. They have a budget for theft,” Soare said in regard to large department stores. “Once you have a budget for theft, you’re fine. It was only last week I started buying paint and it’s expensive. Pretty soon I’ll go back to taking it.”

On the other hand, according to a July 2015 WFPL article

by Jacob Ryan citing Louisville Metro Parks data, “vandals” caused more than $400,000 in damages at Louisville parks and community centers from 2010 to 2015.

Despite the price tag that comes with graffiti, this “alterego” can prove to be lucrative, as well. According to the New York Times, Banksy, a popular street artist, sold a work called “Slave Labor (Bunting Boy)” for $1.1 million in 2013. Banksy

26 | Spring 2016

has been the forefront of graffiti’s mainstream acceptance, even creating a street art-inspired exhibit and “bemusement” park called “Dismaland.” Other writers, such as Louisville’s “Brrr,” made names for themselves simply by tagging their aliases so much that entire cities become aware of their presence.

In 2014, Sharon Scott, the owner of ARTxFM, actually showcased some of Brrr’s work in a street art exhibit called “Radio Waves and Escalades.” According to Scott, about 800 to 1,000 people passed through in the approximately two months the show was open.

“I believe street art has the ability to beautify areas, though a lot of people think it's vandalism and that we shouldn’t be glorifying vandalism with art gallery space,” Scott said. “I tend to think differently.”

Scott specifically noted the positive community effects of graffiti and street art.

“It can bring attention to areas that need assistance,” she said. “Our artists aren’t the guys who paint on houses and businesses; they tend to paint on abandoned property. I think that’s a greater contribution to our community than most spray paint art, as it may say that this building needs some help.”

A recent death in the graffiti scene brings to light just how passionate not only writers themselves are about graffiti, but also Louisville community as a whole. Last November, Jonathon Brown, an internationally-known Louisville graffiti artist better known as “2Buck,” died while painting in Puerto Rico, but his family lacked the money to ship his body back to the United States. Brian Gaughan, owner of Spinelli’s pizza, organized a memorial and art show that raised money, all of which went to help 2Buck’s family, and LEO Weekly reported that popular Louisville graffiti writers such as Brrr, friends, and fellow artists from as far away as California came out to support the event.

“It was awesome how they reacted,” Paner said, describing how the community came together to recognize the writer and support his family. “I don’t know if he knew it or not, but he was making this huge impact on graffiti in today’s history as it is.”

Indeed, 2Buck succeeded in altering the graffiti stage in Louisville, taking on projects more dangerous than other artists could even dream of. He kickstarted an interest in graffiti for some, and he raised the standards for others.

“Without 2Buck in Louisville,” Paner said, “I don’t know if the graffiti scene would even be what it is, to be honest.”

While graffiti was on the rise throughout Louisville during 2Buck’s golden days, no one broke the mold quite like he did, says Paner.

“There were a couple of kids who were in 2Buck’s generation who were doing some things, but 2Buck literally crushed everything. He did a whole new thing with graffiti in Louisville,” Paner said. “He was hitting massive spots, ridiculous like ‘How did you even get up there? How did you paint that big?

How did you not die? How did you not get caught?’”

Graffiti writer or not, it is difficult to argue that 2Buck did not have a lasting significance in the Louisville graffiti scene, as well as other cities around the world. His death was extremely sudden for some, but others view it as a predictable fate.

“I thought it was big. I thought it was a lot. It was the most random thing,” Paner said, describing 2Buck’s death, but recognizing the consequences of such a risky exercise. “It happens, you know; I mean, you know what you’re doing up

GRAFFITI POLICE Ralph Weible, who works for Highlands Graffiti Abatement, cleans up illegal graffiti on Mar. 19 where it is visible from roads, sidewalks, and buildings, keeping the city as clean as possible. Weible cleans up graffiti even when he is not being asked to do so. “It’s mostly civic pride. That’s why I go out in other areas that I’m not being paid to do,” Weible said. “If there was a way that I could get the entire city, I would.”

Spring 2016 | 27

there. A lot of things can happen. It’s definitely not the safest thing to do.”

However, 2Buck’s commitment to his work is arguably a virtuous attribute, exemplifying determination and fearlessness.

“You’ve got to have a tremendous influence on people to go out to do the next thing,” Paner said. “Do whatever you want, to just try and not give up, to be ambitious, to have that drive to do whatever.”

Of course, that’s looking past the fact the source of 2Buck’s dedication is an illegal action, which some people find doable. Mary Carothers, a Professor of Fine Arts at the University of Louisville, goes so far as to praise the potentially perilous act of writing graffiti.

“It’s an art, really,” Carothers said. “These big pieces of spray paint art, which are more consciously drawn, and wheat paste pieces … which Banksy is famous for, … you see more of a refined taste that may have stemmed from the same intentions, like personal expression.”

Even Joshua White, founder of GACL, still considers graffiti an art form.

“It’s definitely an art. It’s a craft,” White said. “If you are a bomb-maker, there’s a real art in making bombs… there’s art and science mixed there and it does a lot of damage — we don’t tolerate it… but it’s an art.”

White became interested in the removal of graffiti in the early 2000s, when he began to notice an increasing amount of graffiti in the Highlands. Then in the fall of 2013, White found more near the intersection of Baxter and Chestnut.

“I started making calls through what I thought were the proper channels to get it removed and it didn’t.

It didn’t go away,” White said. “I realized there’s no organization in Louisville, there’s no program, there’s no roadmap of any sort, there’s no leadership.”

Shortly after, White formed the GACL, which, according to White, “gets everybody that has a stake in the game to the same table and we get them talking and then come up with a plan to fix it.”

White sees the work he does as important to society, comparing Louisville to New York City where “they abandoned abatement.”

“Maybe 10 or 20 percent of the stuff that got produced was incredible,” White said. “The other 80 percent that was present was terrible and the entire neighborhood in that area took a hit — there was tagging, and there was higher crime in that region of the city.”

Greater Louisville Incorporated spokesman Tyler

28 | Spring 2016

Glick said, “Graffiti can be a negative when site selectors come to our city seeking to locate jobs. Economic development officials typically view an abundance of graffiti as a negative.”

In addition to being a downside for prospective businesses, Glick noted that companies already functioning in Louisville face the perpetual threat of vandalism.

“Individual business owners who are victims of graffiti have to pay for removal. There are definitely business costs that come with graffiti,” he said.

In addition to the risks and disadvantages it holds in society, graffiti has severely impacted Paner and Soare’s personal lives, which revolve around painting.

“It caused a lot of stress in my family for a while, because I was just so young. They were worried,” Soare said. “It’s all I ever wanted to talk about. It’s all I ever wanted to do.”

“The only thing that changed with my parents is that they’re kind of mad at all the writing on the walls,” Paner said. “My family really kind of never knew what exactly I was doing. Ever. I think they still don’t.”

Paner is 16 years old — a student — and graffiti has not only had an effect at home, but it has also impacted his school life.

“All I do is draw and write on stuff. I don’t even do it intentionally,” Paner said. Writing on school walls has proved to be a difficult habit to break.

“I have a little pen in my pocket, I’ll just be sitting in the hall and I’ll just start writing,” Paner said. “I don’t even think about it.”

Similarly, the time commitment has taken its toll.

“I’m late for everything because of a lot of things, including graffiti,” Paner said. “I have problems with my attendance at school because of it.”

However, graffiti is a part of Paner’s and Soare’s lives, and they have chosen to accept it — the good and the bad — hoping to continue painting throughout their lives.

“I know that I can’t make a living off graffiti,” Soare said. “I am going to at least try to find something to do with art. You know there’s really not much money in it unless you really do it.”

Paner, likewise, wants to keep painting in the future, but he has other plans as well — bigger plans. He wants to attend the University of Louisville and go into business, marketing, and networking.

“No one’s telling me to do this,” Paner said. “It’s just because I want a better life for myself. It’s what I want.” •

MUSEUM OF MODERN GRAFFITI This unoccupied building sits on Baxter Avenue close to the Baxter Avenue Morgue. In this photo taken on Sept. 16, 2015, art covered all four sides of the building, including one side of the building with a giant mural of Muhammad Ali.

WHY YOU LION? Spinelli’s Pizzeria is an advocate for graffiti art, including graffiti specifically made

by Spinelli’s workers. This photo, taken on Sept. 16, 2015, includes tags, pictures of pizzas, and even a lion on one of the storage units.

PAINT ON MY PIZZA This art-covered truck is owned by Spinelli’s Pizzeria. To the right are garages, also owned by Spinelli’s, with more graffiti art covering the doors. This photo, taken on Sept. 16, 2015, features the work of one of Louisville’s more notable artists, BRRR, adorns one of the walls.

Spring 2016 | 29

Homeless not hopeless words & photos by ERIN WOGGON • design by ELLA MAYS

E “

Hi, my name is Erin Woggon, and I am completing a photojournalism project. I would love to take your photo and ask you a few questions.”

30 | Spring 2016

ach step felt weighted, calculated, anxious. I clutched my folder to my side, trying to look as professional as possible. My scripted introduction played back over and over in my head.

“Hi, my name is Erin Woggon, and I am completing a photojournalism project. I would love to take your photo and ask you a few questions.” I opened the large, wooden door of the shelter, located in the old St. Stephens church on Muhammad Ali Blvd., breathing in deeply, calming my nerves. Inside, men huddled around tables — some in conversation, some intently watching “Law and Order: SVU” on the TV. This was it. I was ready to learn.

During my freshman year of high school, I moved from the suburbs to the middle of Old Louisville, and with this move came a realization: I had never before been exposed to the level of homelessness in an urban setting. I wondered, where do these individuals come from? How did they get to where

they are? What is their story? I wanted to learn more about Louisville’s homeless population, so when I had the opportunity in my photojournalism class to complete a project of my choosing, I knew this was the idea to pursue. St. John’s Homeless Shelter for Men was the perfect place to try because of connections through my mom.

After the center employees announced my presence and my purpose for being there, I was pleasantly surprised when a man approached me interested in participating in my project and enthusiastically agreeing to be the first covered. This man, Tim, exuded positivity and instantly made me feel at ease.

As I sat down in a separate room with Tim, Maria Price, the Executive Director of the center, entered, greeting us with a smile. It was then I witnessed the moment Tim told Maria of his success in securing an apartment. Witnessing the pride on his face and Maria’s was the first of many moving moments I experienced during my time with these men.

otis

“ The mental illness out here, that’s mind blowing. I get teared up just thinking it. … It hurts me sometimes in my heart to watch other people go through so much that I forget about what I go through. It’s almost like it’s okay for me to go through it, but I hate to see someone else go through it. That’s real bad. I just pray. I don’t see too much good happening out here because there are so many people. It doesn’t happen in one night. I think if the public, especially people that give, help support places like this … I would like for those people to understand the problem. This isn’t just my problem, this is the whole country’s problem.”

Spring 2016 | 31

My conversation with each participant started with the question, “Can you tell me a little about yourself?” Tim opened up about information involving his age, his family, and his struggles. He told me about his teenage son and the conflicts he, as a father, faced that would resonate with any father. At first, his willingness to share so much personal information shocked me. I quickly realized that while Tim may have had his fair share of trials in life, he was proud of how much he has worked to improve his situation and is extremely determined to continue his journey to success.

With Tim’s help, I was able to find the other men whom I interviewed. Each stood out to me in his own way. Bradley was extremely friendly and talkative. Just as I was asking him questions in the interview, he was asking me about myself and my life, genuinely interested in learning more about me. His smile widened to the entire width of his face when I told him my interest in attending Western Kentucky University. “They have a great photojournalism program!” he said proudly. We continued speaking about his experience at the university and his life in Bowling Green. After our conversation, he thanked me and let me know that I had brightened his day. Little did he know, he had lit up mine as well.

Throughout the process of visiting the center and speaking to the men, I learned more about their situations and their lives.

Terry, a grandfather of four, may be quiet, but it was obvious that he was a proud family man. Otis was the talkative one. He spoke to me for the longest by far, but I enjoyed every moment of it. We spoke of his life, his family, religion, and society today. I can easily say that my conversation with him may have been the most spiritual moment I’ve ever had, and I’m a regular churchgoer.

I did not predict the impact this project would have on my life. As a senior in high school, I am constantly thinking about my future, my major, and my career. With these thoughts comes constant anxiety, which is understandable in today’s society. However, this project and these men opened my eyes to a passion in my life that has calmed my anxieties, making me more comfortable with my hopes for my future. As I was leaving St. John’s on my last day there, I spoke to Ms. Price once more, and after she asked about

32 | Spring 2016

Terry

“I just had two twin grandchildren. A boy and a girl. I have four grandkids now.”

my future, she said to me, “Well, whatever you do in life, I hope it has to do with people because you are a natural.” I have always wanted to make change in the world and directly affect the lives of people. To have my efforts validated was incredibly humbling and made me excited to graduate and attempt to pursue these types of projects professionally.

The purpose of this endeavor was not to eavesdrop into the lives of these men, nor was it to blame them for their circumstances.

The issue of homelessness is not one-sided; homelessness is a complex matter. Through this project, I wanted to bring the subject to the forefront in a way that portrayed these men as individuals, not as a collective group. •

Bradley “I happen to be homeless and need a surgery at UofL at the same time. So, coincidentally, I’m here. I’m going to relocate after everything goes well. They had to remove four of the vertebrae in my neck, so I’ll be here for a good month for follow-up procedures, but then I’m out of here.”

Tim

“I try to find work wherever I can until I find something steady. But now that I have my apartment, my first goal is to enroll back in school. I wanna go, not for my GED, but go for my diploma. Once I get my diploma, I will go to college, try to go for business. I know a lot about working on houses, and if I go to business school, then maybe I can pick up a business for my own self. I know a lot when it comes to housing. …

I love painting. I don’t mind doing trim work. …

I’m weighing my options right now. Right now, first things first, I want to get my education. I want to get my diploma before I turn 46, so that’s a year. A whole year. As soon as I get my high school diploma, then I won’t give it no more till the next time I can enroll in college. I want to jump on in.”

Spring 2016 | 33

Breaking the

(

Binary s,_~_

GENDER CONCEPTIONS ARE CHANGING IN BOTH THE SOCIAL AND BUSINESS WORLDS

-~~

• written by KARAC MEDLEY & KIM LE • design by SAM WEIBLE

34 | Spring 2016

Illustration credit: Dillon Pinholster

I

n the retail industry, items ranging from clothes to toys to shampoo are divvied up and shrouded in pinks and blues. Products are given names such as “Cristal for Her” BIC pens and Yogi’s “Men’s Tea” and “Women’s Tea.” Axe made a grenade-shaped black loofah and named it the “Axe Detailer Shower Tool.” In bigbox stores such as Walmart, customers appear quite discerning as to whether their products apply to their gender, but what if neither gender applies?

“I like dressing femininely and masculinely,” said Ezra Parker, a 21-year-old who identifies as gender-fluid and uses “they” pronouns. “I basically just shop; I see everything as fair game.”

Parker identifies as non-binary, a growing group of people who do not conform to “male” or “female” standards of appearance.

Products such as those mentioned above are designed according to the assumption that a person fits in one of the two categories, but Parker does not allow their clothes to define them.

“People probably think that because I’m dressing more femininely that day, it means that I feel more like a girl,” Parker said. “How I dress doesn’t affect my gender at all.”

In fact, many leaders in fashion seem to share the same sentiment. Gender-neutral clothing lines have emerged from the likes of Rick Owens, Kimberly Wesson, and Alessandro Michele. These lines, inspired

by David Bowie and Alice Cooper, helped introduce the idea into the mainstream.

Louis Vuitton even enlisted Jaden Smith, the son of the actor Will Smith, as the new face of their women’s wear section, but that does not change the gendered nature of most clothes. Stores are even making the shopping experience more friendly to all gender identities: Target, whcih stopped using gender to label toy aisles in August 2015, made recent headlines by changing its policies to allow transgender and nonbinary people to use the bathrooms in which they feel more comfortable.

Parker, who uses the singular “they” pronoun, said that they felt uncomfortable in men’s clothing because of the way their body fits in them.

For most of fashion history, clothing has been tailored to accentuate aspects associated with the gender to which it’s marketed. These alterations range from extremes, such as cod pieces and corsets, to ordinary designs that focus on showing men’s abs or women’s breasts. However,

“

I DON’T THINK THAT THERE IS A POINT TO HAVING GENDERED PRODUCTS.

what was often thought to be masculine and feminine have changed over time. This evolution can be seen in the popularity of shoulder pads for ‘80s business women and how both boys and girls would wear dresses as babies, before World War II. “I don’t think that there’s a point to having gendered products,” said Lydia Mason, 17-year-old co-president of the feminist group Girl Up at duPont Manual High School. “They usually serve the same purpose, but they just have different packaging or scents. The difference should be determined by the user rather than it being designated to them beforehand.”

However, certain companies may resist changing these products . One of the ways companies can benefit from gendered products is the “pink tax,” which is when companies increase the cost of a product if it’s marketed to women, as opposed to men or all genders. Examples range from Schick razors being priced $14.99 for men and $18.49 for women, to Radio Flyer scooters being priced at $24.99 for boys and $49.99 for girls, despite the only difference being a paint job.

“Women spend more money on something they could’ve gotten cheaper had the pressure to purchase based on gender not been present,” Mason said.

In recent years, parents have argued over how to determine what toys and clothes they should buy for their impressionable children. The National Association for Education of Young Children found that girls’ toys were generally associated with beauty and domestic skills; boys’ toys were violent, competitive and dangerous. Those that promoted education, art, physical, musical and cognitive skills were neutral or slightly masculine.

Children have to tolerate whatever clothes or toys their parents buy them, but as they grow older, they can choose products that align more with them and how they view themselves. Blofish is a NuLu

business that sells entirely gender-neutral clothing for people who don’t fall within the gender binary or prefer non-gendered apparel. Their slogan, “All 4 All,” is the “belief that everyone should have the same opportunities in life, no matter your gender, race, sexual preference, religious beliefs, or abilities.”

Diaper Fairy in the Highlands is a “baby boutique” and a service that provides cloth diapers and other items to parents in Louisville. Emily McCay is the proprietor of this small business, which has expanded over the past few years.

“I go out of my way to find unisex or gender-neutral products,” McCay said. “I would say that, in my store, the products are about 50 percent gender-neutral, 25 percent for boys, and 25 percent for girls.”

McCay often worries about the messages some toys impart to her daughter.

“As a parent myself and as someone who owns a store, I believe in trying to provide a range of different-style toys and of different-focus toys,” McCay said. “And even different-colored clothes, so that my daughter, for example, doesn’t just walk around wearing bows and pink and sparkles and only playing with dolls, so that she kind of has a whole range of what it is to be a human and not just to have these and be defined as a girl.”

Still, McCay offers certain products for parents who do want gender-specific items, as not all of them feel the same way as her.

She places non-gendered products up in the front, because if a parent really needs gendered products, they’re willing to look for them.

“I try, whenever possible, to provide a gender-neutral option,” McCay said. “But, at the same time, there are people who shop with me who are very gender-specific and gender-biased and want those products. So I have the opportunity to provide kind of a focus for the customers while still trying to remain gender-neutral.”

Logan Manford, founder of Blofish, feels similarly about providing a gender-neutral option.

“A lot of companies are so ingrained in what they’ve been doing for the last 30, 40, 50, 60 years that it’s going to be tough for them to transition their whole product line without an extremely open mind,” Manford said. “And I think that’s where we have an advantage. We’re starting out now, we have our message on the wall; we know where we are, we know where we’re going, and it’s basically ‘All 4 All’.” •

Spring 2016 | 35

“ GOT LIPS? Robert Spencer (16, Manual) feels insecure about his “flappy” lips. “If we wold stop putting so much emphasis on being beautiful no matter what, then we could do a lot more productive things,” Spencer said.

If a camera adds 10 pounds, how much does the human eye add?

MANTHE MIRROR IN

Body image insecurities are all too common among teens, regardless of gender.

words by ZAKEYA BAKER & SYLVIA GOODMAN • photos by SAM SIMS & MEGHAN JEWELL • design by NYAH MATTISON • illustrations by KIM LE

36 | Spring 2016

O

ne wall of the cozy yearbook staff room was covered by a line of computers; old spreads were strewn around the room — on chairs, on overstuffed couches, and plastered to the walls. A yearbook meeting for critiques of staff members’ spreads was taking place, and duPont Manual High School sophomore and designer Robert Spencer was the center of attention.

Even though he was standing up in a room full of applause, Spencer couldn’t feel more uncomfortable. He suddenly noticed his hands were sweating. He tried wiping them on his pants.

It didn’t seem to help. As he talked, he refused to meet anyone’s gaze, making erratic movements with his hands to illustrate his speech and downplay his nervousness. Speaking brought on a whole new set of challenges: if he talked, then people would be looking at his face, specifically his lips. Spencer was embarrassed by them. He could only hope no one would notice how big they were.

“If a camera adds 10 pounds, how much does the human eye add?” he thought to himself.

Being honored for his exceptional skill on his yearbook designs didn’t make him feel any better about the way he looked, the way he moved. On the contrary, it only served to make him more nervous; those eyes seemed to follow every movement that he made, everything that made him self-conscious.

“I can’t be around everyone for too long because I start to get this feeling that I’m being judged by everyone no matter what,” Spencer said.

Wanting to be accepted for the way you look is a common feeling. In a survey conducted

by DoSomething.org, an activist organization that attempts to get young people involved in issues that affect them, more than 40 percent of women and 20 percent of men would consider cosmetic surgery in the future because they were dissatisfied with the way they looked. This statistic defies race, relationship status, and age.

Most people are not immune to the pressure society places on attaining the perfect body and look. Not only are a majority of people unhappy with the way they look, but, according to The Guardian, about 80.7 percent of men and boys ridicule themselves about the way they look regularly compared to only 75 percent of women.

Contradictory to popular opinion, males have just as many self-esteem deficiencies.

Spencer’s place on step team provides a setting where he feels more comfortable and doesn’t have the same amount of insecurities.

Spencer doesn’t feel as judged when he’s performing a complicated step routine along with his team as he does in other situations.

But even in the bland, off-white cafeteria where the step team holds their practices, he doesn’t feel completely free. Spencer said that every time it was his job to call out the shouts that

went along with the steps, he never felt adequate.

He either was too quiet or his voice sounded “funny” to his ears. He didn’t want others to focus in on his face or how he looked when he yelled; the image always looked so terrible in his head. Even though it’s important for steppers to be heard, he’d rather stay silent than embarrass himself in front of his teammates and peers.

Though body image and self-esteem problems affect everyone, women usually receive the most attention, while men like Spencer go ignored. The usual emphasis on female body image is often misconstrued to mean that only women face self-esteem issues, but that is not true.

In reality, many men have problems associated with their self-esteem as well. ln her book Body Image, psychologist Sarah Grogan wrote that the male body image relies upon handsome physical features, big upper body muscles, above-average strength, and a “normal” weight. Boys who feel that they don’t meet these standards sometimes resort to unproven methods to improving their body image.

One of the ways many young men attempt to improve their body is by using enhancements like steroids. According to a survey of 2,793 teenagers conducted by Marla E. Eisenberg, Melanie Wall, and Dianne Neumark-Sztainer and published in the journal Pediatrics, 5.9 percent had used steroids at one point.

But that is not to say that women aren’t affected by body image. Aubrey Youngman, a 16-year-old ballet dancer who attends Louisville Male High School, voiced her thoughts on the body image imposed on female dancers.

“There are a lot of stereotypes that dancers don’t eat, and there are cases of that, but we actually have to eat a lot because we burn all of those calories,” Youngman said. “I know dancers are on social media and they’re super thin and skinny and that’s how everyone is describing them, but it’s not what [people] should do — health-wise, sports-wise, and especially in dance.”

According to PBS’s “Perfect Illusions: Eating Disorders and the Family,” 81 percent of 10-yearolds are afraid of becoming obese. This fear can only be aggravated by the angelic filters and heavily edited photos on social media networks like Instagram. These images propagate the idea that, in order to be accepted by society, you have to be skinny and beautiful.

When Youngman was 13, she was prescribed medicine that made her gain weight, resulting in increased self-consciousness.

“I’d be trying to get my body back into shape.

Even though my technique was still on point and my artistry was still great, there would be certain teachers that would look on me and say, ‘Well, you don’t have the right lines or your feet aren’t the right way,’ and that’s what happened to me at a lot of auditions,” Youngman said.

VICTORIAN ERA 1830-1900 An hourglass figure with little mobility and pale skin signified an avoidance of work. Long hair also symbolized womanhood.

ROARING TWENTIES 1920S

The flapper era and the passing of women’s suffrage.

Women began to embrace work and flaunted a more boyish figure.

HOLLYWOOD ERA

1950s

Women showed off curvier bodies with defined waists. Marilyn Monroe was from this era and exemplified this look.

SWINGING SIXTIES 1960s

The era of ultra-thin super model Twiggy gave rise to slender, tall forms, as opposed to curvy figures. It is during this time that working women began gaining more rights.

Spring 2016 | 37

Most people have insecurities, like Youngman and Spencer, but there are additional outside factors that can affect personal body image. Matthew Kleinholter, a junior at Trinity High School, used to suffer from Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD).

“Most people have issues with their appearance. It’s just human nature,” Kleinholter said. “But for people with body dysmorphic disorder, these negative thoughts about yourself consume you. They can get into your daily life.”

Kleinholter remembers hanging out with his friends before he got his BDD under control. It was his seventeenth birthday party, and Kleinholter, along with his five closest friends, went out to eat at a restaurant. His friends, with only the best of intentions, brought out a cake they had baked themselves. They were all looking at Kleinholter, watching as he lifted his fork and took the first bite.

“Eating a slice of it was torture. The entire time, I felt as if they were looking at me with

contempt, judging me. I felt unworthy to be surrounded by friends,” Kleinholter said. “Luckily, I don’t have to deal with that level of stress anymore.”

Now having a better outlook on himself and looks, Kleinholter has managed to overcome his disorder and recommends that others remember the time-honored saying: you have to love yourself before anyone else can.

Spencer and Youngman also had advice for people who are overly self-conscious. According to the two, looks are far too overrated. Spencer said that body image is simply a way to force people into something they aren’t.

“Just love yourself — just be you. I guess that’s all that really matters at the end of the day. You’re still breathing; you’re still kicking. Just think about it: these people in high school that are talking about you,” Spencer said. “You’re probably gonna see them for, like, the next three or four years and then they’re gone. Poof. What do they matter?” •

SUPERMODEL ERA 1980s

Trends in fitness emphasized skinniness while maintaining curves.

Supermodel Cindy Crawford made this look popular.

THE GRUNGE ERA 1990s

After the glamour of the supermodel phase, fashion swung in the opposite direction with ultrathin women like Kate Moss. Anorexia and heroin began growing more and more common during this period.

THE MODERN ERA 2000s

The fashion industry popularized woman with curvaceous bodies and flat stomachs. Plastic surgery was used to accomplished the ultimate body type such as Britney Spears.

THE NEW ERA 2016 DYSMORPHIC NO MORE Matthew Kleinholter (17, Trinity) poses to show his insecurities with his looks. “It’s a cliché, but for other people to love you, you have to be the first to do so,” Kleinholter said.

He has managed to overcome his disorder and recommends that others remember this time-honored saying.

38 | Spring 2016

Women in this new age are sometimes more encouraged to love their body for what it is. Plus-sized models are able to get on covers of famous magazines like Sports Illustrated.

A member of the River City Roller Junior Roller Derby competes against the Fort Wayne Derby Brats on Feb. 20.

Photo credit: MoyesPhotography.com

A different kind of

derby Louisville’s youth roller derby teams empower and suppor t young women.

words by MELISSA SCIANIMANICO • photo by SAM SIMS • design by ELLA MAYS

Spring 2016 | 39

Falling for Derby Sophia Palmer (17, Brown) — a.k.a. “Sockeye Slammin” — is using her experience to teach the younger girls the types of falls in roller derby.

“There are little things all the time that made me really glad I joined the team,” Sophia said.

H

annah Brown, better known in the roller derby world as Skull Kid, left her second practice feeling fulfilled, a sentiment she had not felt in a while.

As Hannah headed towards her mom’s car, she couldn’t help but appreciate the sense of community her new team offered her. Hannah remembered that as a cheerleader she was never able to express herself without judgment, but as she left her second roller derby practice, she knew that this team would accept her, whether it be for her edgy taste in music or for the way she dressed.

Hannah, now a 15-year-old sophomore at Oldham County High School, had previously participated in cheerleading, but unlike roller derby, she had never fit in.

40 | Spring 2016

“Cheerleading can be very toxic,” said Suzannah Brown, Hannah’s mom. “Sometimes, as a mom, I would see the other girls not doing a very good job supporting one another.”

Suzannah was concerned about backstabbing and bullying among the team, so when Hannah approached Suzannah about playing roller derby, she was more than willing to take her to a practice and check it out.

Hannah was instantly drawn to the fastpaced sport.

“Everyone was immediately so welcoming, and the community was amazing. I knew it was the sport for me,” Hannah said.

This will be Hannah’s second year playing roller derby. Suzannah appreciates the support and general positivity her daughter has experienced in the sport, but Hannah is not the

only person who has found refuge through this community.

Dating back to the 1920s, roller derby’s modern incarnation provides an alternative to more traditional sports.

“It’s not the sport where you’re going to find people who normally gravitate towards field hockey or soccer or lacrosse … it’s for people who want something that’s a little outside of the norm,” said Adam Palmer, a coach for Louisville’s youth team, River City Junior Roller Derby.

Roller derby is a contact sport played on roller skates in which two teams consisting of five members compete against each other. Each team is called a lineup. They compete in brief matchups called “jams” that make up games called “bouts.”

“

In most leagues around the country, roller derby is played exclusively by adults, but recently, youth teams have been springing up around the nation.

“The kids don’t have the strategy the adults have, but what they do have is way better stamina,” Palmer said.

The River City Junior Roller Derby team was established in Louisville around five years ago. The team currently has 35 devoted players, ranging from around 7 to 18 years old. The players are divided into groups based on skill level, rather than age.

These groups include a beginner group, level one; an intermediate group, level two; and an advanced group, level three. Out of the 35 players on Louisville’s youth team, about 20 are at an advanced level while the remaining members still need improvement. Palmer claims no matter the skill level of the players, they are all welcomed as a part of the roller derby community.

Palmer what’s unique about roller derby is that it brings in such a diverse group of girls.

“It’s okay that they are a little different because it’s kind of like this weird melting pot of kids and interests and styles of dress,” he said.

To the girls, roller derby is much more than a sport. This female-dominated community is a subculture dedicated to promoting female athleticism. It provides a sense of identity and belonging for the women involved.

“The team aspect of roller derby to me is one of the most appealing things about it because you are with a group of women you maybe wouldn’t usually be with,” said Shelley Palmer, one of the players on Louisville’s adult league, the Derby City Roller Girls, and the wife of coach Adam Palmer. “Once you step on the track you are on unit and you are all working towards the same goal.”

Shelley and Adam’s daughter Sophia, or Sockeye Slammin as she’s known in the rink, is a member of Louisville’s junior league. Sophia feels that the team is very tight-knit. Adam believes that roller derby as a community has always been a safe-place and has offered an environment where players can come from any background or status and still be 100 percent

So far roller derby has been so much better for Hannah’s self esteem and also giving her a positive example of how females should do nothing but support each other and never try and pull each other down.

a part of the team. In fact, many roller derby teams, like the United Front, a team based out of Northampton, Mass., are, “an all- and no-gender team that welcomes any roster-eligible skater regardless of assigned sex, gender identity (or lack thereof ), or gender presentation and expression.”

Hannah believes this acceptance has fostered a wide-ranging sense of inclusivity in the sport. She especially appreciates the fact that she can express herself without restricting expectations of who she should be and what she should enjoy.

“People are so accepting and you’re not forced to be a little peppy cheerleader girl,” Hannah said.

Not only does roller derby provide a place to be accepted, but for many like Hannah and Sophia, it is a means for empowerment.

“So far roller derby has been so much better for Hannah’s self-esteem and also giving her a positive example of how females should do nothing but support each other and never try and pull each other down,” Suzannah said.

Throughout history, there has been a significant change in society’s gender roles, yet stereotypes still remain and are greatly reflected in the sports industry. Several studies published by University of Akron professor Susan D. Witt show that children experience gender stereotyping from parents, peers, and media.

For some girls, roller derby is an escape from those stereotypes.

Dr. Dawn Heinecken, a professor in women’s and gender studies at the University of Louisville, said that society’s expectations of what is masculine and what is feminine greatly affect the way that Americans view sports in relation to gender.

“Sports became a place for men to preserve a sense of masculinity...women and girls are still what sports sociologist Cheryl Cooky calls ‘sporting outsiders’,” Heinecken said.

Many contact sports, unlike roller derby, exclude women from involvement in their professional leagues.

Heinecken believes this is due to “gender norms that view women as physically weaker and less able to endure pain than men.”

Roller derby directly challenges modern gender norms and the idea that the sports industry is a male-dominated field.

Many recent findings, like those portrayed by the Canadian Association for the Advancement of Women and Sport and Physical Activity have proven that female involvement in sports, primarily in team-based sports, greatly benefit women’s self-esteem and confidence as well as their physical health and even their grades. Roller derby is no exception.

“I’m not a very confident person but when I get on the track I’m completely zoned in on what I’m doing and every outside force that has been bothering you completely goes away,” Sophia said. “I focus on skating and helping my teammates get better at whatever we are doing.”

Sophia enjoys the everything about being on the River City Junior Roller Derby team: the challenges, the adrenaline rushes, the victories, but most of all she loves her team.

“I love that it can go from super intense and crazy focused to complete goofball on the track,” Sophia said, describing an incident where she collided with a teammate and tumbled to the floor.

The girls giggled, confused as to how Sophia’s foot got there or how they ended up tumbling like Jenga blocks in the first place— and, although Sophia was painfully aware she scraped her friend’s neck, and a welt was surely blossoming where her skate pressed the curve of her hip, she was laughing because even though she endured some bumps and bruises she was still doing what she loved: roller derby. • Sarah Sullivan contributed to this article.

Spring 2016 | 41

virtually

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION. Kate Duncan (17, St. Francis) rehearses a video by making sure that the lighting is perfect and the camera is correctly positioned. She takes her videos very seriously. “There’s something about just getting to film what I do everyday that makes me really happy and really glad to just share it with other people,” Duncan said.

42 | Spring 2016

YouTube alters the modern day success story. words by ALICE DETERS • photos by JORDYN STUMPF • design by MADDY WILLIAMS

O

ne centimeter to the left. Back to the right. One half of a centimeter to the left.

Too far.

Runny beads of sweat began to form on Emma Engilman’s powdered forehead, making their way down her sculpted cheekbones, past the concealed blemishes and bright orange lipstick. It’s meant to be a “fall” look. The lights beat down, cutting the small corner of the room into a shiny white box.

All this for 33 subscribers.

“This is the difference between creating a blog post and creating a YouTube post,” Engilman said.

For YouTube: “You have to get the lights right, you have to get the camera right, you have to position it all right, you have to get everything ready, you have to set it up, and you have to take it down, and you have to clean up, and then you have to edit the video,” Engilman said. “It takes a lot, lot longer.”

Engilman, a 17-year-old junior at Eastern High School, is not a native YouTuber; she’s a blogger. “The Little Lace Dress,” Engilman’s blog, was a finalist in a 2014 Teen Vogue sweepstakes and is full of fashion posts and pictures of Engilman modeling her latest finds. Instead of standing alone, The Little Lace Dress uses YouTube to support and expand its reach across social media.

“My blog’s my main source of putting stuff out there,” Engilman said. But: “YouTube is such a great way to get a bunch of views — fast.”

Engilman is not the only one to take advantage of YouTube’s audience.

Meet Kate Duncan, another YouTuber interested in makeup and fashion and who has a loyal following across social media: 3,365 followers on Twitter.

45,400 followers on Instagram.

72,265 subscribers on YouTube.

And counting.

Two years ago, Duncan went on a medical leave from school due to heart problems and got very bored.

“I was going to doctors’ appointments and therapist appointments and I needed

something to do,” Duncan, now a 17-yearold junior at Atherton High School, said. So she turned to YouTube.

Having already networked to gain upwards of 40,000 followers on Instagram, Duncan’s main concern was transferring that following to her new medium: YouTube.

“My mom was very scared, because she has always been an advocate for internet safety,” Duncan said. “I thought she was going to tell me to delete it.”

According to Duncan, she didn’t actually tell her parents when she first started putting herself out there. By the time she decided to come clean, she already had a substantial fan base. In the end, however, Duncan said that her parents were supportive of her decision.

“I just have to keep my grades up and stuff for me to keep doing it. And so, and that’s what’s really a challenge now for me,” said Duncan. “It’s keeping on top of that [YouTubing], because it is my job now, and keeping up with school, too.”

YouTubing is, indeed, a “job” for Duncan, who spends countless hours recording for profit. In fact, many YouTubers have begun to realize that the business is quite lucrative, with the number of channels earning six figures annually up 50% from last year, according to YouTube’s website. According to Forbes magazine, Felix Kjellburg, known by his screen name PewDiePie, was the top-earning YouTuber of 2015 making about $12 million over the course of the year.

“I started realizing that I could be making money off of this,” said Duncan, who now works with AwesomenessTV, a media and entertainment company based in Los Angeles.

Duncan is paid based on the amount of views her videos get, the amount of subscribers she has, and the amount of interaction she receives on each of her videos. Therefore, Duncan tries to put her best content forward for the best results.

It costs time and effort, but the reward is considerable: paychecks and a good reputation as a professional YouTuber.

Duncan’s latest achievement is her new app “Kate Duncan,” released November

7, 2015, offering yet another place for her followers and subscribers to access her YouTube channel’s video content. So far, the app holds an average of 5 stars in the App Store with reviews titled “Really good” and “IN LOVE.” Mark Vogt does not have an app in the App Store or as impressive a following as Duncan on YouTube, but the 18-year-old St. Xavier High School senior has graduated to a more advanced level of videography.

Besides having recently finished his newest film “East Point,” a six-month-long undertaking, he won Honorable Mention at the 2013 White House Student Film Festival, has held several public premieres of his work, and has just announced his newest project, “Leo’s Awakening,” a Star Wars comedy. Indeed, Vogt is one of the more serious, classic filmmakers someone might stumble upon while browsing YouTube.

Yes, YouTube.

“It started as a place to keep everything; I had all these videos and I would just put them up, and they were really small and little, but then eventually it became a way to connect and share with people,” Vogt said. “YouTube is a really great place for creative people to do what they want to do and get immediate response.”

Vogt started to experiment with advanced film in his debut channel, “Mrstarwarsfan66.” From here, he began to learn.

“With technology today you don’t have to have a ton of money to go out and create something,” Vogt said. “If you don’t know how to do something, you just search it and your answer’s there or someone in the comments is there to help you.”

This do-it-yourself quality of modern filmmaking has made what originally required expensive equipment and experts much easier to pursue.

Cue MAV Films, Vogt’s self-made production company bearing the initials of his full name: Mark Alex Vogt. For MAV Films, YouTube was a springboard, giving Vogt a place to experiment with short films that fit the YouTube way of video: click, watch, share.

Vogt’s new channel, MAV Making, now has 1,674 subscribers, and most of his Spring 2016 | 43

audience consists of teenage Louisville. But through YouTube, Vogt has had the opportunity to further expand his reach alongside other forms of social media such as Instagram.

“I knew that if I was able to integrate that and YouTube together, then followers would keep going and subscribers, the amount would just go up,” Vogt said. “I knew from that point as long as we produced something big enough and kept going and doing more that eventually people would start to catch on.”

By “we,” Vogt means his team, the close to 20 people that make hours of strenuous script-writing come to life.

“I’m just a guy that basically organizes everything, but I really just want to reiterate everyone’s hard work that goes into it. There are so many people that work day and night to make these things possible,” Vogt said.

Because of the extremely thin profit margins, most of the group behind MAV Films is made up of

“

I make them because I love to entertain people. I love to make people feel a certain way and I think that with each one of the films I make, I try to inflict a different emotion.

teenagers who don’t come with a huge price tag.

“Very rarely do we bring in someone who’s much older than us,” Vogt said. “One, that’s for price. It’s very expensive to bring on people. And two, it’s kind of nice to see what we can do with us.”

Although his team members are technically employed, according to Vogt, paychecks are few and far between. After all expenses are accounted for, extra cash to divide between cast and crew is scarce. But the people behind MAV Films are not in it for the money.

“I make them because I love to entertain people. I love to make people feel a certain way and I think that with each one of the films I make, I try to inflict a different emotion,” said Vogt.

Recent films, such as “East Point” and its precursor “Echo Trail” are riddled with dark plots and more gritty, dramatic themes; however, Vogt noted that his favorite films are the happy ones.

“I love the light-hearted stuff. I love it when people come out of the theater, or wherever I’m showing it, and they just feel happy,” he said. “They feel good.”

44 | Spring 2016

With a growing following in Louisville, Vogt has also gained a volunteer workforce.

“People see the product, and they see that it’s done and it’s finished and it’s got an endpoint and they’re like, ‘Oh, what can we do to help on the next one?” Vogt said. “That’s the biggest reward that I think I could ask for: getting that support to go forward.”

Duncan on the other hand is more of a solo act and has struggled with the immense time commitment required to run her YouTube channel all on her own. Though she has found a way to cope with the responsibilities of school and YouTube, Duncan still misses out on opportunities, especially with her family.

“I would miss out on my brother’s and sister’s games and stuff to film a video and it was really hard, I think, for my family to understand,” said Duncan, emphasizing that the time it takes her to film a video is time going towards both her job and her hobby.

Overall, Duncan has found that the solutions to a more bearable workload are the scheduling and organization methods that have become time-saving habits for her.

Despite the solutions Duncan now uses to handle the problem of time commitment, there are larger things at risk, one being Duncan’s privacy. Aside from her mother’s worries about Internet safety, Duncan tries to limit the amount of information she discloses to her wide fan base in order to protect what privacy she has left.

“It’s really tough because some of my friends, they can post certain things on Instagram and Snapchat and stuff like that that I have to refrain from doing, like using curse words,” she said. “I really try not to as much as possible, because I don’t want to damage my reputation. Some girls do consider me their role model which is crazy, but I also, I don’t want to be a bad role model.”

Similarly, Duncan’s extreme popularity has lead to limitations involving her family members. A few months ago, Duncan’s younger sister asked Duncan not to tag her in Instagram photos anymore.

“I guess people say stuff to her at school and that really kind of makes me upset,” Duncan said.

But Duncan understands that this situation can be difficult for the people around her.

“I just try and make sure it’s okay with everyone who is in my pictures for me to post them, because the last thing I want is to be exploiting someone else’s life,” she said. “I know I’m definitely putting myself out there and I don’t want to take anyone with me.” duPont Manual High School counselor Marti Johnston knows about the negative impact an increased social media presence can have on teens’ lives.

“It forces them to grow up a little bit faster,” she said. “They’re getting a lot of recognition and

maybe just things that they’re just not ready for.”

According to YouTube’s website, the sheer amount of YouTube users is equivalent to almost one-third of the Internet population. Everyday people watch hundreds of millions of hours on YouTube, generating billions of views.

With such a huge audience, negative comments or interaction on videos can prove to be a powerful influence on teen YouTubers’ emotional well-being.

“If you’re the type of person that will constantly think about those negative comments, then it will hurt you and your self-esteem,” said Johnston.

Vogt has first hand experience with such situations. MAV Films’ popularity has brought in criticism as well, and while most of the comments are positive, Vogt has also had to deal with “creative input” from experts and average viewers alike.

“I think the hardest part for the crew and the team is that dislike bar. That like-dislike bar,” said Vogt, referring to the meter measuring likes and dislikes beside each video on YouTube. “It’s always a very divisive thing, especially films. It’s always a very like it, hate it. There’s no in between.”

But Vogt keeps his head up, noting that the positive comments and the group dynamic of MAV Films are what keep him going.

“I’d say that our greatest success is coming together as a group, our greatest success is working together, even though there are always going to be ups and downs as a group of teenagers working in a business environment, Vogt said.

Engilman took the most lighthearted approach.

“I have gotten some negative comments, but usually when I get negative things I just laugh it off; I think it’s funny,” said Engilman. “I remember there was this one time where I got a “hate” comment and I posted it on twitter and I was like, ‘OMG my very first hate comment! I’m moving up in the world!’”

Johnston stresses the importance of having a strong support base to counter negative feedback.

This support may come from friends, family, even fans, recognizable only by their usernames.

“If you have a support team and you have a positive attitude about it, and you really believe in what you’re doing, I think it’s going to help you cope,” said Johnston.

Indeed, both Engilman and Duncan attribute a part of their success to the backing they’ve received — from positive comments on YouTube to friends who help them set up and film videos — and Vogt’s production team constitutes a first-class support group.

Like Engilman, Duncan has found that she is “moving up in the world.” Having met one of her fans in person, Duncan now knows what it feels like to be on the receiving side of the crowds.

“I was with my family and my mom,” Duncan said, describing one of her first meetings with a fan.

RIGHT SIDE OF THE CAMERA. Emma Engilman (17, Eastern), pictured on Jan. 17, is the creator of a fashion and positive body image blog called the TheLittleLaceDress.com. This blog is unique because of the little to no Photoshop that is done to the photography, to promote positive body image.

“I think it was kind of like a wake-up call for my mom, too, to see that they’re actual people.”

To get where she is today, Duncan had put in hours upon hours of time and energy, but she also had to be reliant on the popularity of her videos and the ability of YouTube to efficiently spread them.

Jordan Streeter, a marketing intern at webdesign company VIA Studio, said, “I think you have to know what kind of content you’re dealing with first and study which different social media platforms cater and are used for what.”

Duncan and Engilman have both chosen YouTube to communicate their ideas, but Duncan has also used Instagram, while Engilman has prospered from making her own blog. Vogt is a filmmaker at heart, so he works almost exclusively with YouTube; however, he and his team still keep up with an Instagram page to boost publicity.

“The main thing about social media and what makes it so great to me, is its ability to give a voice, connect, gather information and simply discover,” Streeter said. “The stronger your social media presence, the greater the ability

to be heard, spread the news about something, crowdsource content to fans (if you have a loyal following), create change, raise awareness.”

Duncan has used her YouTube channel to promote products that give back 10% of profits to and buy fabric from communities in Africa, Asia and Central America. Engilman has used her following to discourage the use of Photoshop in changing physical features, such as body shape.

Now it’s time to look ahead.

In the future, Engilman hopes to make a living off of her blog, taking into account that she’s entering dangerous waters in the cutthroat fashion industry. It will be difficult, but she is ready to take the challenge head on and believes YouTube may contribute to her success.

“I hope it just kind of boosts my blog in that it gives me kind of a more personal perspective, because I feel like YouTube is very personal,” she said.

MAV Films is in what Vogt calls “blue sky idea mode.”

“There’s no limit to what we’re doing right now,” Vogt said. “Basically we have a whiteboard and we take a bubble and we draw

another bubble to it and we can really just formulate these ideas and stories.”

Duncan has made big plans, as her career has only just begun.

“I know that when I graduate high school I want to move to L.A. and go to college there.

And also my network is based there, so I think once I am in the area full time I will have more opportunities to do something with my network and with other companies,” she said.

Johnston specifically noted that a large presence in social media may help teens stand out during college admissions and for other scholarship opportunities.

Though Duncan has set high standards for herself, she recognizes that achieving her utmost potential isn’t necessarily what she wants.

“I just want to be happy with the videos I’m making and just where I am on YouTube,” said Duncan. “Wherever it is, no matter what the number is, I want to be happy with where I am.”

Back in her makeshift studio, Engilman takes a deep breath and adjusts her camera slightly.

Left, right — there. Flawless.

Lights. Camera. Action• Spring 2016 | 45

NAM NAM CAFE

FOOD FOR THOUGHT Exploring fun, teen-friendly restaurants in the 502

• words by CAMERON DANIEL • design by NYAH MATTISON • photo by JORDYN STUMPF

Hours:

Address: Phone: Website: Style:

T

WANT MORE FOOD REVIEWS? Go to ontherecordmag.com NAM NAM NOODLES The Saigon Noodles with shrimp ($12.50) is a featured entree at NamNam Cafe in the St. Matthews area. This small, authentic Vietnamese restaurant is a hidden gem in Louisville. The quaint dining room offers an intimate feel that’s good for any time of day.

M: Closed, Tu-Th: 11 - 2:30 p.m., 4:30 - 9 p.m.

Fri-Sat: 11 - 2:30 p.m., 4:30 - 9:30pm, Sun: 4 - 9 p.m.

318 Wallace Ave, Louisville, KY 40207 (502) 891-8859 namnamcafe.com Authentic Vietnamese

he facade of Nam Nam Cafe on Wallace Ave. in St. Matthews doesn’t really look like much. The small brick building is quaint and welcoming in nature, with a large, whimsical sign across the front reading “Fresh Vietnamese Cuisine.”

Inside there’s is a bustling kitchen crew and the hum of conversation bouncing off bamboo-covered walls. Only a handful of tables are present and they allow for easy conversation between eaters. It’s a fun place to sit down and enjoy a deep bowl of green curry ($10.50) or a plate of Saigon noodles ($10), both of which I highly recommended.

Nam Nam Cafe is a locally owned Vietnamese restaurant dedicated to fresh and healthy ingredients. Head chef David Truong works with his family to create authentic cuisine and a fun environment.

Nam Nam is slightly more expensive than the popular Vietnam Kitchen in Iroquois. A simple chicken mi xao is $10 while Vietnam Kitchen has chicken mi xao for $8.10. But after trying at least half a dozen items in one sitting, it is worth the extra cash. Each dish was incredibly fresh, flavorful and tasty.

To begin, I ordered the summer rolls ($5.50) which were cool and simple, a great start to the meal. Vermicelli noodles, shrimp, a small amount of pork, bean sprouts, lettuce, and herbs all wrapped up into a layer of light rice paper worked together perfectly to delight my palate.

Next, the main dish. I had the Saigon noodles ($10-12.50, depending on the choice of meat). When I took a bite, first a wave of sweetness and then a splash of spice hit my tongue. The spice was enough to satisfy, but not enough to overpower.

The meat (in my case, chicken) was cooked perfectly, tender and just sweet enough.

To finish off, I had an avocado smoothie ($4.00) — honestly my favorite part of the meal. Even though it seemed daunting, the smoothie was sweet and creamy, yet crisp and light. It was satisfying and fairly healthy as well.

The staff was particularly busy on the evening that I attended. A harried waiter claimed that they were low on staff that night, which was understandable. My servers, even though they were rushed, were friendly and attentive. I was seated quickly and ordered after a few minutes.

The appetizers came after about eight or nine minutes, and the rest of the meal arrived about 10 minutes after that.

The service was quick and fairly typical of a family business: personable and charming.

Overall, Nam Nam Cafe was an awesome place to sit for a few and enjoy some authentic Vietnamese. The food is fantastic and made of ingredients from mainly local providers, so you can feel good about eating there. I would recommend this great restaurant to any Louisvillian who is looking for a fun, adventurous, and tasty experience.•

Spring 2016 | 46

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CENTRE GRADUATES GAIN MUCH MORE THAN A DIPLOMA. They become tomorrow’s leaders and

innovators, equipped with a broad-based liberal arts education, a global perspective, and a passion for making a positive difference in the world.

# T h e C e n tre E x p e rie n c e

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