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By De Elizabeth
At the time, she was the vice president of the National Association of Black Journalists at Arizona State University, where she spent Election Day covering her classmates’ viewing parties. And while the night started off “electric” with the seeming promise of a historic Hillary Clinton win, by the time Trump was giving his victory speech, Greene felt a numbness take over. “What does this mean for me as a Black person in America?” Greene, now 24, recounts in a phone interview with MTV News. “What does this mean as a woman in America? What does this mean for the communities that I love? And, in the next breath, what does this mean for me as a journalist?”
From the day Trump announced his candidacy in 2015, his campaign (and later, his presidency), was filled with sexist and racist rhetoric, and he has a long history of attacking and undermining the press. Understandably, Greene wasn’t the only one wondering what Trump’s victory would mean for the future.
Over 2,000 miles away in New York City, Jo Yurcaba had their own concerns. Yurcaba, who currently lives in North Carolina and works as a freelance journalist covering reproductive health and LGBTQ+ rights, was a news editor at Romper during the 2016 election and was stationed at the Javits Center on November 8 — the Clinton campaign’s HQ for the night. “It was a very difficult time for me in general,” recalls Yurcaba, now 28, adding that they came out as nonbinary just before the election. Yurcaba worried, rightfully so, that the Trump administration would make every effort to attack LGBTQ+ rights, which was not only their journalistic beat but also their immediate community. “No one prepares you for the fact that you could be denied health care and then have to write about it the next day,” they point out. “From the get-go, it was really challenging. I now have a whole system for managing my anxiety and depression that I didn’t have before the presidency.”
It became clear early in the Trump era that the role of journalists was no longer what it used to be. The very first weekend of his leadership was infamously marked by former Press Secretary Sean Spicer lying to the American people about the size of Trump’s inauguration crowd; to date, The Washington Post reports that Trump himself has made over 20,000 false or misleading statements. Journalists, whose careers are defined by a commitment to the truth, soon discovered that their job wasn’t just reporting what the president said; rather, it was fact-checking and holding Trump accountable. That particular work, it turned out, was endless.
“There’s been such a reckoning for journalists,” says Zach Schermele, a Columbia University student currently working as a reporter for Montana Television Network. The 19-year-old began his career covering Trump’s presidency for local news stations in Montana and later wrote an education column for Teen Vogue, focusing on how Trump’s policies were affecting the most underserved students. “Our role as reporters is to contextualize and put into perspective what’s going on around us. But because of the world we’re living in, with so many ‘alternative facts,’ it’s more incumbent upon us to say if a person is wrong, or if something is a lie. We’ve had to consider and grapple with that a lot more than journalists were ever trained to do.”
With the rampant spread of misinformation on social media in recent years, accurate and responsible journalism has become all the more pertinent. That task can be daunting, especially when covering a president who not only lies on a regular basis but also puts forth both language and policies that threaten the safety of marginalized communities. It’s a conflict that Remmy Bahati is familiar with. The 27-year-old Columbia University graduate student started her broadcast journalism career in Uganda before moving to the U.S., where she began covering the Trump administration for NBS Television. “It has taken an emotional toll on me,” Bahati admits. “Do you remember when he called African nations ‘shithole countries?’ I’m an African woman. I had to cover that story. That was so heavy for me, as a journalist.”
Azadeh Ghafari, a California-based psychotherapist known as @the.wellness.therapist on Instagram, says she notices a new sense of urgency in many journalists today. “It’s personal,” she says. “This isn’t something abstract that reporters are just covering; so much of what’s been happening directly impacts our lives, whether it’s climate change, racial and social justice, or LGBTQ+ rights. Journalists understand their role, as physicians do amid COVID-19; they feel the weight and responsibility in the sense of: ‘I have to write about this, and I have to write about it in a particular way in order for it to be effective.’”
For Greene, who now works for a nonprofit dedicated to empowering women in addition to covering politics, gender, and culture as a freelance journalist, that particular call to action means shedding some of her j-school roots and taking matters into her own hands. “We were always taught the importance of objectivity, so there was a lot of ‘both sides’-ing of issues: staying in the middle and just reporting the story,” she explains. “I once had a professor tell me to leave my identity at the door. But as a Black woman, I don’t really have the ability to do that; I am who I am when I walk into a room. After the election, I really started to rethink what my role as a journalist would look like as a Black woman. How can I take these narratives that have been so dominant in our country and culture for so long, and how do I undo them and put forth a narrative that tells the story the right way?”
Emotionally investing oneself in a story can be taxing, too, as Danielle Campoamor has experienced on a regular basis for the past four years. The 33-year-old freelance journalist often covers reproductive justice, advocacy for sexual assault survivors, and maternal mental health — all of which are topics in which she has a deeply personal stake.
“I feel both within and without,” Campoamor says of her role as a reporter. “I liken it to my identity itself. As a white-passing Puerto Rican woman, I sometimes feel like I have no place, and it feels that same way as a reporter who is also a survivor, and someone who has had abortions. To watch this president — who has been accused of sexual assault and harassment by over 20 women — continuously attack abortion rights, I think I’m exactly who needs to be telling these stories. But it sometimes feels like in order to get people to care, we have to keep cutting ourselves open over and over again, sharing these intimate details of our lives in response to what this president has done in order for people to pay attention. After a while, you start to wonder where the work stops and you begin.”
Work often bleeds into other facets of life, but doubly so when a byline is publicly attached. Journalists are often online targets for harassment from the president’s supporters, or the president himself. “After I wrote a piece about the election, I received dozens of messages [from Trump supporters] saying I should kill myself,” Yurcaba says, noting that they struggled with suicidal ideation in 2016. “I’ve received threatening messages, and ones denying my identity, telling me I’m not nonbinary and that I just have a mental health problem.”
While reporting on the recent Black Lives Matter protests in Washington, D.C., Bahati used her Twitter to share some of her coverage. “Some Trump supporters were harassing me, telling me to go back to Africa, telling me how I don’t have a say about American politics,” she says, adding that she’s been called numerous hateful slurs. “I try to ignore the messages, but it’s so tough. Of course they affect me emotionally.”
It would seem that being a journalist would require one to develop a fairly tough skin, which is the case for Yurcaba, who says they used to spend a great deal of time discussing harassing messages with their therapist. “Now when I get messages like that, I just block them immediately and I don’t read them. I’ve developed the ability to laugh, because some of the messages I get are just so ridiculous.”
Ghafari worries about that sort of desensitization; being constantly threatened is not, and should never be, normal. “Most folks I know in media become numb or adjusted to this,” she explains. “From a mental health perspective, they create a coping mechanism, or they figure out how to deal with the most dangerous threats.” Ghafari points to the Access Hollywood tape or the time Trump mocked a reporter with a disability: “These instances were so shocking at the time, but we’ve gotten used to things like this, because it’s been a nonstop cycle. This says a lot about our own mental health and how easily humans can adapt to difficult situations. In one sense, it shows our resilience. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t also strip away at our humanity.”
In 2018, Schermele came face to face with the reality of what a career in journalism means today. While covering an October Trump rally in Missoula, Montana, he watched the president openly celebrate violence against a journalist, much to the crowd’s delight. When a colleague asked him, “Are you sure this is what you want to do with your life?” the 19-year-old felt a wave of uncertainty, one that still echoes two years later.
“It’s really hard for me to reconcile my love for the industry with the rhetoric and the problems that have come out of the Trump era,” Schermele says, admitting that the thought of a possible second term makes him feel completely drained. “Trump’s first term has left a lot of journalists exhausted. Staring down the barrel of another four years…would force a lot of young journalists to really look at the industry, and set new standards for themselves of self-care.”
That’s something Greene is already actively working on. She deletes several of her social media apps each weekend, noting that they can be too triggering — especially amid the coronavirus pandemic and the 2020 election cycle. “I often have to take a step back and explain to myself why I’m doing this work,” Greene says. “And that traces back to what my people and ancestors have been through. The fact that I’m in this position today, with a job and a salary and the ability to speak freely, are things that my ancestors did not have at all. I revisit that every time I get depressed or emotionally tired because of the Trump administration.”
Yurcaba is less certain of their own trajectory. “I’ve talked to people in North Carolina who laugh when I tell them I’m a journalist,” they explain. “Some of them don’t take it seriously. They think I’m part of a greater machine that’s working to ‘trick’ them. I’ve thought about leaving journalism because it sometimes feels like there’s no way to make an impact. I think about that like once a week.”
But for many journalists, Yurcaba included, the question of “what else can I do?” often brings them full-circle, to storytelling. Amid the stress and worry, there is also hope — found in the stories of those who are actively working to fight back against injustice or the many young people entering political races themselves with a desire to affect change. That feeling is frequently coupled with despair — but those emotions don’t always cancel one another out; often, they share the same space.
As Bahati explains it: “I have had hard experiences; some have instilled hope in me, and some have made me lose hope. I lose faith in the administration. It’s tough, first as an immigrant; two, as an African woman with an accent; three, as a woman of a different skin color. But what can we do? We have to tell the stories.”
الالتهاب السحائي دكتور كريم علي قناه فكر تاني https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCoB1ySdDtKKDe0OVN1zbA_A.
Michelle Lipinski is the founder and principal at Northshore High School, a Massachusetts-based school which specializes in supporting students who are 16 and recovering. And in the video below, the educator — who you can watch this Tuesday on the MTV docuseries — stresses how she has personally evolved when it comes to helping young people who struggle with addiction.
“I went from a typical educational background into public health, and what I realized on this side of it — and I’m going to be super vulnerable right now — is that I did every single thing wrong,” Michelle states in the clip. “I suspended kids for things that, frankly, they didn’t have any control over. I expected things of their families that they were never going to be able to attain.”
How does Michelle describe coming to terms with her past decisions? And what are her hopes for these “beautiful children”? Hear Michelle in the video — and do not miss her and the entire Northshore community this Tuesday on 16 and Recovering at 9/8c.
If you or someone you know is struggling with addiction, you are not alone and help is available. For treatment options and other resources, visit 16andrecovering.com. If you need to talk to someone, call 800-273-8255 for a free, confidential conversation anytime. Join the conversation using #16andRecovering.
قناة ممكن تساعدك في استيعاب النظام : https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCoB1ySdDtKKDe0OVN1zbA_A قناة تمارين …
By Caitlin Wolper
Sadie Dupuis and a fellow poet were looking for ghosts. Rooming at the same supposedly haunted hotel, they took photos and stayed up until 4 a.m., but found nothing. It wasn’t until the next day that Dupuis — a vocalist and guitarist for Speedy Ortiz, who performs solo as Sad13 — came across a presence in Seattle’s Frye Art Museum. She was immediately obsessed with it.
It was a portrait of the dancer Saharet by Franz von Stuck. Dressed in green, a red flower in her hair, Saharet appears benign at first. But after a moment, you notice the dark circles under her eyes — a stark contrast to her very red lips and intensely pale skin. The utter weariness of those circles adds a hyperrealistic depth, a whisper of sorts: She’s seen something. This portrait primarily inspired Dupuis’s new album, Haunted Painting, out September 25.
While a painting is tethered to one moment, to call it haunted imagines an entire life behind it. Haunted Painting is much the same. Beneath a veneer of synth pop, bubbly beats, and deft lyricism hides loss, mental health struggles, and environmental disasters.
“When my dad passed away in 2015, I basically went right back to work: I had a record that was about to come out, and I was in a shocked state of grief — not in denial about it, but not really ready to process it,” Dupuis tells MTV News. “I remember doing a big interview the day after the funeral. I remember going to SXSW maybe two weeks later, going on tour for most of the next two years, and not really sitting with that or processing it … I just kept creating work for myself so I could be working all the time and not have to deal with my mental health.”
That’s particularly clear on “Good Grief,” where she bemoans the distance between them, singing, “I’m taking the loss best I can.” Dupuis wrote the song while he was still alive, as a way to say, “I’ll be OK, Dad!” but unfortunately, he passed before she completed it.
Death and grief haunt these songs. Dupuis recorded two of Haunted Painting’s tracks — “Good Grief” and “Oops…!” — at New Monkey, the Van Nuys, California studio of deceased singer-songwriter Elliott Smith; one of Dupuis’s musical heroes, he’s the first whose passing she remembers. It was after that studio session that, stuck in a 22-hour layover at LAX in August 2019, she heard of the death of David Berman, a musician and poet, best known for his band Silver Jews. From this compounded grief came “The Crow,” a creeping track with arresting, gritty guitar interludes and jarring lyrics: “The future just confounds me / He’s dead, I’m drinking at Taix / Faint-hearted bottle blond hiding out ‘til the smoke just passes.”
“While the record’s about grief, it’s also partially about having to reconcile with the fact that love is not enough to keep people with you all the time, and your heroes can make beautiful art but that doesn’t mean they’re going to be here forever, and trying to learn to understand and cope with those kinds of losses,” Dupuis says.
Haunted Painting also reckons with the loss of Dupuis’s friends to drug overdose. Specifically, in 2019, three of her friends died within a couple weeks of each other; she found this reactivated OCD symptoms she hadn’t experienced since childhood. She explores this resurgence on “Ruby Wand,” perhaps her most lyrically direct work, orchestrated with mathematical synths she feels echo her experiences with OCD. As she sings “I need control,” the song explodes into cacophony; she compares it to musical theater.
“My own OCD symptoms are very much about wanting control and wanting to do homework for things that aren’t homework, just to have a place for my brain to focus,” Dupuis says. “A very over-the-top, guitar-heavy, out-of-control moment feels like what it’s like to go through these intensely obsessional, invasive fixation periods when things feel out of control.”
And it’s not just death and loss that are out of her control. Dupuis also reckons with the climate crisis on “WTD?” and misogynistic, offensive comedians on “Hysterical.” She challenges: “You’re in it for the fight, right? / You clamor for the gore / You can’t hide that lust anymore.” It’s a world’s worth of outrages packed densely into the album — all that keeps it from bursting is Dupuis’s careful attention to language, fitting words like “mellifluous” and “febrile” in her songs so seamlessly that neither the emotional takeaway nor the accessibility of the music itself are interrupted.
But despite its ghosts, Haunted Painting can be ecstatic. “With Baby” is a glittery track that hinges on “kissing the hero in the photo booth.” In the music video for “Oops…!” Dupuis is a saccharine vampire dressed in her mod best, baking with blood; in “Hysterical” she watches nonchalantly, ordering a pizza, as her friends are murdered by ghosts over video chat, her YouTube sidebar exclusively populated with Wallace Shawn.
These splashes of humor, especially in the “Hysterical” video, are essential in maintaining balance and levity among grief. And it’s so clear in Dupuis, the person, too: Merch for the album has ranged from your standard vinyl to a haunted hot sauce, haunted breakfast tea, and haunted hazelnut spread.
In part, she gets to make such silly, winky products because on this album, Dupuis is fully in control of everything from production to promotion. She’s releasing Haunted Painting herself through indie label Wax Nine. While she finished mixing the album in December, she did say that “the slowing down that is a necessary byproduct of being in a global emergency has made me look at different aspects of the release cycle in a way that’s special.” For example, she plays nearly every instrument on the album — that makes livestreams an interesting challenge.
While she’s not sure if she’ll write deeper into this grief in the future, environmental and economic disasters are still top of mind. “WTD?” was inspired by an article she read about “housing in the ocean that would be impervious to rising sea levels, obviously for the uber wealthy — [I felt] anger at the idea that the benefactors of huge industries that are causing the greatest impact to our climate will be the first to be able to colonize another part of not only our planet, but also space.” After all, these issues are ongoing.
“While it’s a nice utopian fantasy to imagine a world where we’re not constantly working against so much,” she laughs wryly, “I imagine that’s probably too optimistic.”
But don’t read Dupuis as pessimistic, either. In “Good Grief” she sings to her father, “Anytime I make a big sound, that’s when I feel you.” Haunted Painting serves in many ways as a memoriam, but it’s also a tribute to the memory of those lost, and a commitment to keep moving forward.
الكانديدا المرضيه والسلياك والكرونز من اكثر الامراض شيوعا في الجهاز الهضمي.. خطه كامله لمحاوله اصلاح الامعاء وبناء جهاز هضمي صحيح وفعال بدون ادويه خلال ٣ شهور.
By Sara Radin
PEN15 is officially back for its second season on Hulu, and it’s still seventh grade for best friends forever Anna and Maya, played by 33-year-old writer-creators Anna Konkle and Maya Erskine inhabiting 13-year-old versions of themselves. Just like in the first season, the middle school memories and pre-teen outfits definitely do not disappoint.
Season 2 finds the BFFs attending a co-ed pool party just days after their secret closet rendezvous with seventh-grade heartthrob Brandt during the school dance that closed the previous finale. For the splashy occasion, Anna wears a denim print swimsuit with a zip down the middle while Maya rocks a floral printed handkerchief-style top with ties. Both looks feature boy shorts, a swimsuit staple for adolescent women in the late 1990s and early 2000s. I myself am guilty of owning plenty.
While their swimwear may seem rather simple, costume designer Melissa Walker explains that it required a lot of creativity to squeeze the stars’ adult bosoms into the suits so their bodies look like that of seventh-grade girls. This is a challenge Walker has run into since the show debuted in 2019, but luckily she’s since been able to upgrade from ACE bandages to compression tanks and bandeau tops. These details are also what make the lead characters’ actions so compelling: From wearing muscle costumes and trying to join the boys wrestling team to practicing witchcraft while rocking thick eyeliner and necklaces made from hair, Maya and Anna always stay true to themselves.
Walker likens the process of working with Erskine and Konkle to a “slumber party” because of how it also gives her an opportunity to dip into her own middle school memories and wardrobe. “Maya and Anna are so collaborative, and it’s like, ‘Oh, here’s a very specific memory from my childhood. Here’s one from yours,’” she tells MTV News. “And it’s just nice to cook them all in the pot and see what the most embarrassing soup is that we can make.”
Below, Walker talks about the process of building out the stars’ wardrobes and why she loves working with the IRL best friends so much.
MTV News: What has your process been for building the wardrobe out for the characters?
Melissa Walker: When we started, I went ahead and bought a bunch of YM and Seventeen magazines from like 1997 to 2000 so that we could still see what the kids [saw], who were a few years behind or got hand-me-downs from their older siblings, which is the case with Maya and those more on top of trends. There was such a variance between going through these teen magazines and seeing what the fashion sense actually was versus how that’s interpreted by a high schooler or even a middle schooler, because it’s just so different.
I’m a few years older than Anna and Maya. So I looked through my yearbooks and even thought about the way I translated trends versus how you do in seventh grade. Like, it’s usually right before your first job, so you don’t have money to buy anything on your own, and your parents have much more of an input into what’s going on. That was a big factor, especially with Maya’s mom being a little more overbearing, and then there’s Anna’s parents going through the divorce and being distracted. So we definitely tried to factor that into the decisions that they made through their wardrobe.
There were also very specific things this season, and last season, that were universal, like Rocket Dogs, Skechers, and low-rise jeans. There were very specific memories for Maya, having grown up in California, that we inserted into the show. And then Anna, all the popular girls in her school — she grew up in Vermont — had the matching Tiffany’s jewelry. So we made sure that all the popular girls had those.
MTV News: What were some of the challenges you’ve run into with trying to make them look like seventh graders?
Walker: The first episode they threw at me this year was a pool party. We ended up building these bathing suits with compression in it already. We made Anna a denim pocket print tankini suit with spandex and boys shorts. I remember one of my friends had something similar but it was a handkerchief top. Then the bottoms that Maya had, they were little boy shorts, but I specifically added strings on the side. Back then, you’d wear them long so when you left the house, your mom thought you were being a good kid and then soon as you get to pool or beach you’d hike it up thinking that showing another inch or two inches of your thigh was sexy, but it ended up just bunching and looking like a diaper.
Sometimes I’d have to do very quick fittings with them for a specific outfit in between scenes, and when they’re not wearing the bra, you can see a difference in their posture and how it helps them change into their characters.
MTV News: That sounds like such a fun thing to witness.
Walker: The best part of it is that they’re just willing to go for it. One time there was a pair of MUD jeans, and I was like, oh, these might be a little too small. And they’re like, “No, we want the muffin top. We want that. We want the cringe. We want the embarrassment.” They’re not afraid of pushing it as far as they can go. And that freedom for a costume designer is such a treasure.
MTV News: So in terms of sourcing the pieces, did you pull from thrift stores? Did you mainly create the pieces that they wore?
Walker: We did a few different things. Season 1, we definitely did a lot of Goodwill and thrifting. The ‘90s were popular, but Y2K wasn’t old enough to not be cool, but not old enough to be cool again. So I was able to find a lot of what I was looking for thrifting or on eBay and just in the time since then, the items I was looking at on eBay went from like $30 to $300. And now there’s this resurgence of specific Y2K fashions, so finding things was definitely more of a challenge.
The price point of all the vintage went up, but then we got to do a lot more collaboration with companies because, you know, Tommy Hilfiger, Lucky jeans, and Skechers — they’ve all started revamping older styles. I got to reach out to some different brands and actually have them send me some of their archived graphics from like 1999 and 2000 so I could reprint them. It was fun to get to collaborate with bigger brands and designers. And then this year we got to make more of the garments too, because we had to have multiples of a lot of things this year for different gags and whatnot. For example, we actually had to remake the Tommy Hilfiger shirt Maya, Anna, and Maura ended up all sharing.
MTV News: That’s so cool. And you mentioned that there’s an actual clothing collaboration, right?
Walker: We’re making a PEN15-inspired clothing line and right now that’s just launched. Once we started shooting this year, the girls were obsessed with their bathing suits and they were like, “We need to make these.” And so we had intended on making a clothing company, and I was putting together my pitch, but then everything shut down with COVID and no one wanted to invest in the clothing line. So I actually partnered with a factory in downtown [Los Angeles], and we’re creating a program now to help encourage more designers to make clothing lines inspired by their work on the big screen.
هذا الفيديو منقول من قناة فكر تاني وانا لا اسرق الفيديو او انتحل شخصية اي حد رابط القناة https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCoB1ySdDtKKDe0OVN1zbA_A مشاكل …
It doesn’t look like Briana will need to “figure out” her relationship status with Luis after the former couple had sex (without protection, no less) multiple times.
During tonight’s Teen Mom 2 episode, the mother of two found out the results of her recent sexually transmitted disease (STD) and sexually transmitted infection (STI) testing at Planned Parenthood (she was screened for chlamydia, gonorrhea, syphilis and HIV). And it wasn’t without major disappointment.
“Your HIV and syphilis testing are both negative, your gonorrhea is negative but the chlamydia portion did show as a positive result,” Briana was told over the phone.
Some facts about chlamydia: The disease is sexually transmitted, and the infection can be treated with antibiotics as long as no re-exposure occurs.
“Take the pills at one time, and then it’s really important that you don’t have any sexual contact for a full seven days after you take those pills,” the Planned Parenthood representative explained, while adding that Briana shouldn’t have sex again with the person who infected her until she is cured.
After Briana hung up, the Floridian revealed that she “did not know how to feel” about Luis giving her chlamydia.
“I don’t think he cares,” she confessed in a diary cam. “I think he’s the kind of person that will find out that he has something from his partner, so I just wish I would have protected myself.”
She subsequently told her mom Roxanne (the grandmother called Luis a “f*cking dick”) and received her medication immediately. After she returned home from the pharmacy, her sister Brittany gave her two cents.
“You can’t trust nobody, and that’s what condoms are for,” Brittany stated. “Even though you’re protecting against a baby, you’re not protected against STDs,” she continued (Briana previously confessed that she is on birth control). “Did you learn something? Never to touch him again even when you’re drunk?”
“I’m never having sex with him again,” Briana concluded. “Whatever vibes we were having is like totally shut down, and the only person who is going to lose out is Stella. What if he is so embarrassed and ashamed, turns the other cheek and then doesn’t come around anymore?”
How will Luis react to the news? And will this unexpected diagnosis (and now cure) change their relationship, like Briana says it will? Keep watching Teen Mom 2 every Tuesday at 8/7c.