Dearest reader,
Before we dive into the final edition of Iris this year, let me tell you a story.
When I was younger, all I wanted was to dive into the stories I would read and stay there, to step into the shoes of a hero and let the rest of the “real world” disappear into my periphery. But when adults, however kindly, asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, a different answer sprung to my lips. A scientist, I would answer back. I want to study genetics. No doubt the precocious ambitions of a twelve year old charmed teachers and parents alike in my small middle school.
Sometimes, though, another answer simmered and swam in my mind, but I was never brave enough to voice it out loud. Could I just read and write instead? It seemed too naive, a dream I kept in my back pocket and dared to whisper in the dark when no one was listening.
Now I’m all grown up, l can look back on my twin flames with the mercy provided by ten years of distance. I see that what attracted me to both writing and science as a child was an earnest curiosity about what makes us human and a desire to understand the complex inheritances we carry, the legacies from the past that we bring into the present. I’ll be honest, over the past decade, I didn’t work up the temerity to go to medical school like my middle school self had planned, but discovered a love for words that (I hope) will never leave me anytime soon.
As I come to the end of my time as Editor at Iris, a publication that has shaped my university experience in more ways than I could have ever imagined, my only wish is to go back in time and tell my twelve year old self that reading and writing is a worthy dream to follow. She probably would take a deep breath, crack a smile, and worry a lot less.
This last issue of Iris (yes last!) is centered on the theme of Nostos. From the Greek, Nostos (pl. nostoi) means a hero’s return, their homecoming after a long journey; it is also the root word for the word “nostalgia”. With all this in mind, I asked our writers and artists to think about what it means to return home. What might have remained the same, what might have changed? Alternatively, what might it mean to step away from one’s home and into the world?
Bailey Middleton starts us off with her piece, “for when we don’t know” where she interviews director of the Women’s Center, Chanel Craft Tanner, about how to seek calm amidst the uncertain times we’re living in. This is such an impactful interview, a much needed reminder that rest is truly resistance.
Simone Minor’s conversation with a 1978 black university alumna is the foundation for her piece, “This is Our University” where she explores the golden age of Black UVA, its history, and the powerful meaning behind the statement, "this is our university."
Faith Leslie pens a relevant culture critique titled, “Looksmaxxing: The Revival of Eugenic Beauty Standards We Didn't (?) See Coming” where she dissects the recent looksmaxxing trend and all of its socio-cultural implications.
Carley Frajda’s brilliant prose-poem “Counting Sheep” is a wonderful exploration of the nebulous world between dreams and nightmares, of imagination and reality, of ends and beginnings. Carley challenges her readers to think of the space between each breath.
Jordan Coleman’s series of short poems, “memories i can’t leave behind” is a bittersweet love letter to her time at UVA, where she writes about the moments over the past four years that she will never forget, even as change is inevitable. Perhaps, Jordan reminds us, it is the strength from our cherished memories that help us face the shifting tides below our feet.
Jackie Bond’s reflective essay “Growing up on the Water” nestles itself back in childhood, where she reminisces on her summers with her grandfather, fishing in Mexico. To mourn the passing of one’s youth is a sacred thing, and Jackie renders this complex, nostalgic experience so tenderly, the beauty of her language soothes the growing pains on and off the water.
Similarly intrigued by the potency of memory, Ella Powell’s piece “I Think About” is modeled after Joe Brainard’s style where every sentence in his book starts with I remember. Here, Ella writes in short, snappy stream of consciousness sentences that all begin with the phrase, "I think about." Flitting from memory to memory, Ella poetically traces a throughline between the mundane parts of life to the absurd, and everything in between.
Grace Traxler’s flash fiction piece, “The Dinner Party” is about the reunion between an old group of high school friends. Grace’s main character, Caroline, wonders how the group dynamic will have shifted many years later as they all meet up in New York City.
Susannah Baker, Iris Assistant Editor wrote “Please leave the light on, darling” where she meditates on the nature of change and moving on. Susannah’s piece is a beautiful encapsulation of the butterflies that tremble in your stomach, nervous yet excited for what’s to come next.
Lindsey Smith’s “hometown’s reprise” calls back to her first ever piece in Iris "a requiem to my hometown". Now her songbird finds another place of refuge in one of Charlottesville’s brick houses laced with ivy. Lindsey writes a stunningly evocative piece, exploring how the concept of home morphs as time passes on – it may not always feel the same, flying from nest to nest.
We have such an amazing sequence of pieces for this year's final edition of Iris Magazine, I sincerely hope you take the time and read through any one of these that piques your interest, and then come back for more!
To our incoming Editor and Assistant Editor, Lindsey Smith and Simone Minor, I wish you all the best as you take the helm of Iris and steer this magazine to new heights. I’m incredibly confident that Iris will soar under your leadership! Susannah Baker and Mary Esselman, it has truly been an honor to learn and work with you both over the past year. Thank you for helping me to shepherd this publication in all seasons — I sincerely wish I could do this job over and over again.
Finally, to all the amazingly talented Iris writers and artists — Bailey, Cassie, Grace, Simone, Susannah, Carley, Jackie, Jordan, Ella, Lindsey, Faith, Judy, Seble, and Daphenie — I am eternally grateful and could have never done this without your dedication and creativity. Bringing Iris to life with all of you has given me so much joy.
Happy reading!
Love,
Miriella Jiffar
Editor, Iris Magazine 2024-2025
