Alex Hagan

By: Alex Hagan, Dissonant

When someone asks me where I’m from, I usually say “DC”. That’s where my home is, it’s where I spent most of my life, and being from the city is a big part of my identity. But I wasn’t always from DC. I was actually born just outside the city in the suburbs of Virginia, still on the same metro train system. Just an hour away by car or train, yet totally different places. In the suburbs, my friends looked like me, their families looked just like my family, their families went to church and did all the same things mine did.

When I moved to DC as a third grader, concepts like race, sexuality, mental illness were all very abstract and a little over my head. Race didn’t become real for me until the first day of my new intercity school when a group of girls asked to touch my hair and one exclaimed “Wow! It’s so soft.”

Every kid knows and hates that feeling like everyone is staring at you, that you stick out. Being the only white kid in a classroom, you kinda feel like that all the time. Many People of Color here in Madison might feel like that all the time, any bit of ethnicity stands out in the snowy white landscape of Wisconsin.

After I became conscious of my race, over time and as I grew up, I realized there were a lot of advantages I had that some of my friends didn’t. I found out this was called privilege, and that I had male privilege and cis privilege and other types of privilege as well. Listening to my friends, I realized there was a host of problems they faced that I never had to worry about.

Female friends worried about walking home safely at night. Gay friends worried about whether they could be honest with their friends or family about who they were. Black friends worried about being profiled. Mentally ill friends worried about whether their meds would work so they could start living their lives again.

Many of these problems will never affect me because of my identity... but how do you feel when a friend talks about a problem in their life? You wish there’s something you can say or do to make that problem go away, or at least improve it. That’s why I’m really passionate about social justice issues, because these are real issues affecting my friends, people that I love, and I want to do something about it. These aren’t simple problems you can solve with a good piece of advice or a favor, these are problems that require a transformation of our whole society to fix them, so we need everyone fighting for these issues.

That's why I am a part of Dissonant, to expose as many people as possible to underrepresented voices, because these are beautiful voices and once people start to love these voices, that’s when they are going to help them.

Independence and Self-Growth

By: AJ Naqib, Dissonant

Growing up and hearing stories about my dad and eldest sister struggling through life, I wanted a struggle story of my own - until I actually had one.

Let’s just say my life has not been a “typical” one so far. I am an immigrant, 8000 miles away from my roots - Bangladesh. But that’s not why my life has been so “interesting”. It’s interesting because I was forced to become an “adult” at the age of 16. Let me clarify.

I came to the United States 5 years ago and started high school, living under the roof of my sister’s family. Come senior year, I had to move out for family reasons. Here commences AJ’s struggle story, not necessarily the way I wanted my struggle tale to begin: Chapter Title - “5 jobs, 7 ‘homes’ in 9 months, false-diagnosis of cancer, The Posse Full-Tuition Leadership and Merit Scholarship, academic probation as a Salutatorian; a hint of ups with lots of downs, until I finally arrived at UW.”

Looking back at the past 5 years, one thing I’ve noticed about myself is that I adapt, and I adapt pretty well. I’ve learned a brand new language within my first year, well enough to say I don’t have an accent. I’ve taught myself to be a full-stack web developer before I even got to college. I’ve made some great friends whom I can count on for life. I’ve been adapting and finessing.

Adapting to UW-Madison was a tad bit complicated I’d say. Long story short, I got way too comfortable in high school as an adult and forgot how to be a student. But it’s safe to say that I’m systematically breaking the “bad habits” and learning to be a student again, a first-gen college student. As of now, I am pursuing a major in Computer Science with intended certificate in Mathematics and/or Entrepreneurship.

Adulting didn’t pause at UW, it was like a parallel thread running behind all the ongoing university agenda: having to find housing for every break, projecting budgets for bills, food, traveling to NY back-and-forth, you know, the typical stuff. During my low-lows, I remember someone cheering me up saying, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. But it's awfully more difficult when you don’t have a pitcher. But then again, you can always engineer one”... (I’m an Enthusiast-Engineer at heart).

Diana Peña - Moreno

By: Diana Peña - Moreno, Dissonant

To be from Virginia is something I am both proud and ashamed of; I am proud because I
am American and given so many opportunities, but I am ashamed because I never struggled with the issues my siblings went through being from Honduras. They are immigrants: I am not. We share the same blood but are divided by our countries of origin and experiences. So, when I have to choose between Honduras and Virginia when asked, “Where are you from?” I sometimes struggle with the question. Do I answer that I was born and raised in Virginia, but grew up among Latinos?

Do I tell them that I have only traveled to Honduras a few times in my life, but those experiences made me feel connected to my mother’s country and the rest of my family? I don’t really know. I do know that I love both sides equally, and that they provided me with the confidence and pride I have for my heritage. Virginia gave me the resources needed to escape my family circumstances, but Honduras tied me to the family I have back home. It’s quite a paradox, really, when you think about it.

I have a love/hate relationship with my hometown. On the one hand, Springfield is where
all of my childhood memories lie and where I learned the values I hold onto today. On the other, I envision myself trapped in that town because of my family’s situation, and that is something that scares me. Nevertheless, being from Virginia means that I am able to communicate with people from all parts of the world and that is something my siblings never had. Northern Virginia is so diverse not only in skin color, but in ideologies, gender, sexes, and religions. I love this aspect of Virginia and I cannot imagine the person I would be without it. The fact that I grew up in a largely Latino neighborhood made me feel connected to my culture and made me proud to be Latina.

The Hispanic cafes scattered around Springfield are a gem most people don’t know
about. If you’re Hispanic, they greet you with warmth, because you are one of them: you speak the same language, grew up in similar environments, were chased by your mother with the chancla as a child. One of the cafes, in particular, is called J&S Bakery, but we all call it
Chinitos (that’s a story for another time). Although its food is decent, it doesn’t compare to
Veronica’s Bakery, another Hispanic cafe in town. But the reason people keep coming to
Chinitos isn’t because of the food: it’s the service and company. The people who work there are so kind and genuine that it’s hard to refuse to come back. The company is great; the men sit and watch fútbol on television while the women gossip about the trouble Juanita got into this week. I love my hometown because it can be close-knit if you put the effort in.

So, although many people see Virginia as a whitewashed, racist place (and it can be if you go South), I see it as the place that taught me Hispanic customs, showed me the importance
of education, and gave me a chance to explore who I am. And that is something I wouldn’t give up for the world.

Being an ABC

By: Joan Chen, President of Dissonant

I am from a Chinese speaking household. I am not Chinese, I am Chinese American. I
am an ABC, American Born Chinese. I grew up in the DMV (DC, Maryland and Virginia),
specifically DC and Northern Virginia. My parents own a family Chinese restaurant in DC and
as I grew up, the business grew alongside me.

We offer authentic Szechuan cuisine (川 菜 Chuāncài) and many tourists from China
would stop by for a meal. I waitressed for a long time, but when these visitors came I always
feared talking to them. Even if it was basic survival terms: water, food, or napkins, I was not
comfortable speaking Chinese. I understood it, but what scared me was making a mistake. I
would then immediately rush over to one of my family members who spoke Chinese fluently to take care of the customers.

I have always relied on my parents and family members when it came to speaking for me,
reading information, explaining history, etc in Chinese. My parents were always there to speak
the language for me. This excused me from the need to learn the language entirely. I was never satisfied with this thought. I have always felt a language and cultural barrier between me and my family. Around my family I am confined to my own silence because I simply cannot translate all the thoughts that I have in English to Chinese. Where I was from many people could relate to this situation. Some would speak the language fluently, but could not read or write (like me), and some wouldn’t be able to do either, but are still very involved with their culture. I believe a lot of who a person is comes from their thoughts and values. My thoughts and values are walls that I have yet to expose to my family.

But through these years of not being able to participate entirely through verbal
connections, I have been able to observe. I am Chinese, Chinese American. I am able to
experience an insight in Chinese culture from my parents, but I am also able to experience the
different cultures that I grew up around in the DMV. I saw diversity throughout the community
I’ve lived in for 18 years from driving down to Annandale, VA and getting Korean food to going to my friend’s house and eating plantains and jollof rice (Ghanaian food). The melting pot that was created when we started sharing our own cultural stories and traditions defined my identity as a Chinese American. That is the gem that I grew up around.

Letter from the Editors || Issue N° 5

ALT X Dissonant

Last Issue of Year One

Ending the school year with meaningful content from powerful individuals, ALT collaborated with Dissonant Magazine, an upcoming lifestyle and journalistic magazine at UW-Madison.

One simple location can answer the question “where are you from?” Many conversations stop there, but the stories behind that location don’t. One’s origin can deeply influence one’s identity. In this issue, we delved deeper into each Dissonant Magazine’s board member’s background stories and what their origins mean to them.

As the last issue of the school year, we’d like to extend our gratitude to our readers. Whether you were here from day 0 or just started following us (@alt.zine) yesterday, we hope to produce content, style, and art that inspire you. Thank you for the endless support and kind words, we are touched and motivated to do better.

Finally to our ALT team members — once again, thank you for your endless support, ideas, and quality work that made ALT Magazine what it is today. We couldn’t have imagined what a dynamic and professional magazine ALT would turn into, or the dedicated team it would have. We hope that you are as proud as we are.

Big things are in store for ALT Magazine.

Much Love,

Lisa and Nell