Letter from the Editors
Dear Beloved Reader,
We begin in darkness, where many things do. The earth clings to an inky silence, still damp with dreams. But as it shivers awake, shedding the velvet cloak of night, shadows surrender to dawn’s gentle flush. Light bleeds into the horizon, spilling softly into the bruised edges of midnight. In that tender hour of sunrise, as shadows dissolve into sunlight, the world teeters playfully on the fault line of what was and what could be.
But rebirth is not always so gentle. Sweet sighs do not always herald momentous beginnings. Often, rebirth sounds like the sharp jagged breaths that follow suspended silence. It is the body wrenching itself from the past, the mind tearing away from the familiar, the heart splintering open to make room for renewal. Sometimes, rebirth is a tortuous labor of existence, both a painful unmaking and a beautiful remaking.
As a publication, we are invested in the constant making and remaking of Asian Pacific Islander South Asian American (APISAA) identity. We are interested in how we can push the bounds of identity to showcase the entirety of being. So as we open our third volume with this first issue, Renaissance, our writers and artists invite you to witness stories of resurrection and revival—where the legacy of history marries the promise of tomorrow.
Mackenzie Pacquing opens this issue with her piece, “0. All Come From Dust,” with art from Alyssa Manolo. Together, they flirt with prophecy, fate, and bodily divination. They remind us that, sometimes, to die is to be born again.
In the opinion piece “Mothers Pass Down Pearls of Wisdom (and Pearl Earrings),” with art from Mariam Seshan, Aliza Susatijo explores themes of inherited revival, dissecting dying trends to find buried kernels of wisdom. Bhavyasri Suggula’s “child of immigrants home” explores the home as an unchanging liminal moment of respite, brewing with the memories of a family raised and a daughter grown. Her piece is accompanied by art from Hannah Nguyen.
As Bhavyasri explores what happens when you return to a site that is left the same, Ayat Younis explores what it means to be changed. In her piece “Right Where You Left Me,” accompanied by art from Katherine Shi, Ayat explores the conflicting emotions of returning to an ancestral home without the expectations of childhood.
Jasmine Wang also explores themes of family and the connections forged through grief. Her short story "Xiang" centers on the bond between a grandmother and grandson, deepened by the experience of loss. The piece is complemented by Sarah Jun's Flappy Bird-inspired animation, which playfully blurs the boundaries between life and death.
In the short story “E Fontibus,” featuring art by Tori Ochave, writer Scarlet diverges from the theme of revival, crafting a fresh fairytale that is destined to become a beloved household classic. With art from Danielle Zhang, Cayla Celis’ “Starring Adelyne Cruz” introduces us to a movie star who wavers on the cusp of celebrity, scared to look over the edge.
With the spotlight still focused on stardom, we close our issue with an anonymous cultural critique, “Dinner Date with a Side of Double Standards,” about Charli xcx, the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, and a disastrous dinner date. Her piece is paired with striking art by Ananya Sairaman, who, like our anonymous writer, seeks to seize a problem by its root and weed it out entirely.
Throughout this issue, in our relentless pursuit to redefine Renaissance—as artists, as writers, and as creative APISAA peoples—we are constantly reminded that (re)birth is painful. Yet it is through that pain, as we claw our way into existence, refuse to be quieted, and insist on being known, that we are (re)born. From that struggle we emerge as raw, unfiltered, untamed life.
We would like to thank our editorial board members for their steadfast hardwork and commitment to realizing our renaissance as a publication: Sana as Managing Editor of Copy, Mariam and Ananya as our Managing Editors of Design, and Sarayu as our PR Chair. We also extend our gratitude to our creative staff who teach us that sometimes to destroy is to create, and to create is to be continually reborn.
We would also like to thank you, dear reader. Whether you're joining us for the first time or have been with us from the start, it is your support that has brought us to this joyful milestone—our third successful year. As we stand on the precipice of a new dawn, we are reminded that the first light is both a blade—that cuts through the remnants of night and urges us to rise from the darkness—and a balm—that offers healing and promises joyful renewal. We hope you enjoy this issue that lies at the delicate intersection between pain and promise, for it serves as a powerful testament to our (re)birth.
With all our love,
Aliza and Jasmine
