Editor's Letter

My neighbor at my childhood home was a mechanic. He and I used to race on Ripsticks up our long shared driveway in the afternoons after school. Whenever I saw the light on and the garage door open to his shop, however, I’d throw my bookbag down and book it over to watch him tinker with a metal conglomeration in the hood of a car. I was truly in it to rifle through the tall, red, Craftsman toolbox he had. Wrenches’ sizes in those large cases were and are still fascinating to me.

When I was learning to read, my mom would curl up with me every night to recite a book. As my tired eyes scanned each line, I attached words on the page to sounds spoken, enraptured with it all.

This special edition of Iris is dedicated to the writers and artists who participated in the Women’s Center’s juried arts and writing competition, (re)present. 

It’s perhaps an understatement to say that my favorite pair of shoes—a black toe-loop pair of Birkenstocks sandals—is well-loved. Their rubbery bottoms, once textured with prominent zig zags, now glide precariously under each step. Plus, thanks to the wonky gait I inherited from my dad, the outer edge of each heel is ground down an inch or two below the rest of the sole. Black crumbles line the synapse between cork and leather, neighbored by creases that could put the Utah salt flats to shame.

Editor's Note: Iris stands in solidarity with the APIDA communities at U.Va. and beyond. We are heartbroken by the act of hatred in Atlanta that took eight lives on Tuesday, March 16th, 2021, and send our deepest condolences to the loved ones of the victims. In response, we share this statement by the Women's Center and state unequivocally: anti-Asian racism has no place in Iris or in our world.

When someone asks, “How are you?” what do you say? Maybe you bare your soul, laying out your triumphs and trials to a perfect stranger. Maybe you brush past every mishap, replying with only the highlight of your day. Or, if you’re like me, perhaps you rely on an old standby. If “How are you?” is Pavlov, I am its dog. Over many years, my people-pleaser brain has trained me to err on the side of politeness, and avoid at all costs any action that might be overbearing. So, my response is simple, tried, and true: “good.”

When I look back at my time with the Women’s Center, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. After three years, the time seems to blur slightly. The things I do recall are fewer specific moments and more themes of constancy—unvarying inspiration, exploration, and vulnerability. 

When I was younger, my best friend and I would beg my mom to play The Dixie Chicks’ Home album in the car, just to hear “Travelin’ Soldier”. We sat in the backseat, belting out the lyrics of a love story that traversed an entire litany of emotions in a mere 5 minutes and 43 seconds. The song felt like the embodiment of lyrical and storytelling genius. We were simply obsessed. 

This is it, Iris’s last issue for the 2018-2019 school year, and we could not have been happier to have spent the last several months sharing our thoughts, ideas, and passions with the Iris readership. For many of us, the closing of this year means the closing of our chapters at both Iris and at UVA. On one hand, we all love a good transition. We love the opportunity to say goodbye to the old and welcome the new.

I love Spring as much as the next person. I love when it gets warmer and the days get longer. I love retiring my parka for a few months and opting for a lighter jacket that’s not nearly as heavy. I love that my car isn’t buried in the snow, and that my seasonal affective disorder has taken a hiatus. I love showing off my very pale, very translucent legs in my favorite tennis skort that I wear 5-6 times before washing. Do I play tennis? No. Is this hands-down the most functional item of clothing I own? Absolutely.