Albatross

NYC’s Black Queer Community Holds Memorial for O’Shae Sibley

A coalition of activists and LGBTQ organizations have organized a memorial ball for Sibley at the gas station where his killing occurred, to be held tomorrow: Friday, August 4th. At 6pm, community members will congregate at 1935 Coney Island Ave in Brooklyn to dance and vogue together in honor of Sibley and in defiance of the fear and suppression imposed on queer people in public spaces. Organizing groups include Black Trans Liberation, Destination Tomorrow, House Lives Matter, and The NEW Pride Agenda.

Sibley, who was one of 11 siblings, is remembered by his family and friends for his confidence, talent, work ethic, and contagious smile. His 51-year-old neighbor Beckenbaur Hamilton, who is also Black and gay and experienced homophobic violence in his youth, recalled how Sibley resisted his advice to be more careful about expressing his queerness in public.

This past pride month, reports from GLAAD and the Anti-Defamation League showed that there were roughly double the number of recorded instances of anti-LGBTQ harassment and violence than the same period in 2022. Sibley’s death comes just weeks after a trans woman in her 20’s named Fernielle Mary Mora was found dead in her Bronx apartment under suspicious circumstances. Members of Mora’s community and chosen family commemorated their lost friend and demanded the NYPD properly investigate her case at a rally held on July 12.

Culture

Arava

August 01, 2023

Coming into who you are when growing up is a process that can leave you questioning all that you once knew to be true. Self experimentation, joyous rebellion, and a fearless adaptability are all often part of the journey. Film/casting director and photographer Sarah Meital Benjamin captures this truth in her debut short film, titled Arava.

Benjamin immerses her audience into a kaleidoscopic glimpse of what it was like to find herself enveloped in the punk scene of Jerusalem in the early 2000s, and subsequently leaving home at the shocking age of 13. Beautifully told, Arava transports its audience into a world of rebellious youth and self-discovery.

office had the opportunity to chat with Sarah about what it was like growing up in Jerusalem and finding a community who accepted her, free of any judgment.

Interview by Cassie Jekanoski
Photos by Mayan Toledano

How are you doing today? How's Paris?

Paris is great. I'm looking forward to the holidays. I'm gonna go to the south of France. I think I'm gonna do my summer dream south of France thing for the first time ever.

Oh my god, amazing. I've never been.

Yeah, me neither.

Well let's just jump right into it and talk about your film. I know that it's based on some personal aspects, but can you tell us a little bit more of what it's about?

Definitely. So, Arava is the story of two runaway teens in Jerusalem who are in and out of religious frameworks. They're searching for belonging, for identity, and for the true story between one another. They are two best friends and there is some romantic kind of love that is buried underneath their friendship. I think the story is also about discovering that.

I also know that you're from Jerusalem. Is Arava similar to what it was like for you growing up?

I grew up in Jerusalem in the early 2000s and for me, Jerusalem was a strange place to grow up because there's so many ideologies and so many different kinds of groups living away from each other. I left my home and school when I was 12 and I found the punk scene. At the time it was made up of people of all kinds of ages and backgrounds who were either facing homelessness or didn't want to return to their homes for many different reasons. Usually the reasons would be their ways of being didn't really fit ideologies at home. Communities that didn't accept them. You always see those kids when you grew up in Jerusalem. I was 12 when I first approached a group of kids that were a little bit older than me and I didn't really have a space in my own community I felt at the time. I found myself within a couple of months just hanging out in that scene and living in the squads, hitchhiking, and stuff. And it stayed that way for a couple of years.

Wow, you did that at 12?

Yeah, 12, I guess 13 was when I officially left home. It was interesting too because I came from an Orthodox family, but I didn't leave because the Orthodox background was pushing me out. It was actually kind of the opposite. My family specifically and the specific Orthodox dynasty that I’m a part of, are very accepting and they were always like, "You can come back with a mohawk and tattoos." But at the same time, my living environment and my family had a lot going on and I left that community. The film touches on that journey of a young person trying to find out more about the relationship between religion and faith.

So this movie is sort of a sneak peek glimpse into what it was actually like for you.

It was my personal story, but also a bit of the mosaic of punk culture. It was a big thing in the '90s and the early 2000s for us. Now it's kind of gone.

What was it like?

It was mostly punk music in Hebrew and Arabic. Everything was very improvised, very DIY. Sometimes there were not even real instruments, but it was hundreds of kids from really different backgrounds that would get together in abandoned buildings. They would throw these crazy raves. People were living in the squads and your whole life revolved around it — nothing else that mattered. No one was really going to school or were part of mainstream society in any way.

That's so interesting. It obviously must have been difficult for you to do that, but you had that community around you.

My mom who passed away unfortunately, suffered from a lot of mental illness and untreated trauma. Back in the day, where I came from, there was zero knowledge and access to mental health resources and ways to help. So I didn't really know how to deal with my mom's sickness and I didn't really think that I was helping. There were times that I was at home when she needed me more, but when I felt like I was not really needed in terms of being a caretaker, I spent the rest of my time with this crowd that was like my newfound family.

When I wrote the film I was trying to look at every character in the story and every person that I've encountered in my real life without judgment. Tell things for how they felt, and not how they actually were. I'm focusing more on the feeling.

I feel like that's a good distinction to make, the actuality of something versus the feeling behind it. Even if the feeling behind something isn't what actually happens, sometimes that has more power over you and how you perceive things.

It's so true. Somebody who read my feature was like, "Well, you're dealing with teen homelessness and you're dealing with youth at risk which are not really light topics." But I'm dealing with them in some sort of way that feels, not very tear-jerking, you know? Cinematically speaking, I thought about this a lot and I came back to that person and I said that I'm trying to convey the feeling of a teenager in that world rather than an adult looking at these teenagers with a judgmental eye.

A lot of the times when people deal with things like youth at risk, the topic is depicted focusing on misery. Those years were definitely some of the most challenging years of my life, but also some of the best. So much of the DNA of who I am as an artist is embedded in those years. So for me to just look at all of it as dangerous and bad would not be doing justice.

One hundred percent. Just from the mind of a teenager, once you're in it that's your world. You aren't looking at it from an adult perspective like, "Oh, this is dangerous. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this." When you're young you think you're on top of the world and nothing can hurt you.

When you're a teenager, I think so many of these things come together. The saddest you've ever felt or the most on top of the world you've ever felt can both exist in one day. I think that you're learning the scope of your own emotional landscape. It was really important for me to not lose those nuances looking back at these stories as an adult. I'm very lucky cuz I have a lot of journals that I wrote when I was a kid.

You brought up earlier that a lot of the music when you were growing up in that scene was DIY, maybe people didn't even have instruments. Maybe this is just a dumb question, but were those songs ever produced?

Some of them, there's a few. There are a couple that made it to the internet. But so many things are just gone and they're gone forever. It became an obsession actually when I started writing the feature. I was contacting everyone I could from the past. I’d be like, "Okay, do you have any photos, burned CDs with like erased sharpie writings that you don't know what it is and it just sits there? Just give me everything."

I went back to Jerusalem after not living there for about eight years at that point. I rented a tiny little room in some apartment downtown and I told people to bring things there. Bring anything like CDs, clothes, and anything you don't want.

So this was all inclusive of the years of research that it took for you to make Arava?

Yeah, it was a part of that. People shared really personal things with me, but they never even asked to have it back. Some of them I still have and I'll have forever.

That must have been cathartic for you to revisit your past and look back on what you went through, but looking at it from the perspective that you have now.

Something that was happening to me a lot before I made the film is that my memory just kind of erased a lot of years because they were traumatic. And I left when I was too young to leave, obviously. I think I just didn't wanna look back or think about it. I was like, "Okay, I'm moving to another country alone and I'm gonna just... fuck it, see what happens and never look back."

It was really traumatic when I lost my mom. Then when I made the film, I think it was also a process of healing. It was time to piece together these really blurred images to try to understand what happened there. I think that in this whole research in the film and in me contacting all these people from the past, it was all part of some sort of self-portrait.

You do casting and have your own casting agency, so how was the casting for your film?

It was the best part and the part that when we premiered the film that people were the most excited about it. There's two leads, Batel and Swell. It's funny cuz Batel was actually a casting assistant for Memorial Di in New York when I first started working on film scoutings. She was an assistant and was the best scout. She has a really good eye for characters and she has really good taste, really good references. I was so impressed, like a kid this young, with this crazy world of references. I'm not even gonna have her world of references in 10 years, you know?

Wow.

So she was working with me and then simultaneously I scouted Swell on the bus near Jerusalem when she was 18. And I was like, "Hey, I might make a film one day. I like you, you have something— can we keep in contact?" And she was like, "Yeah, sure." In the meantime, between meeting Swell and making the film, Covid happened and I told Batel, "Hey, I don't know if the world is ending or not, but if it is, we have to go back to Jerusalem, and we have to make something about Jerusalem."

So it all starts from actors. Then we saw Swell at an audition. I was like, "I met this girl a few years ago, let's call her in." And she came for an audition. They became friends and they actually became roommates for that summer.

Working with people that already have that connection is great because as good as actors are, I feel like unless it's something in real life that they're tapping into, it's kind of hard to portray those emotions.

I completely agree. For us too, we do so many non-actor, non-model kind of things. It's a lot easier for us to approach people who are similar to the characters in real life in some way. They have something in common with the characters. Having these two girls from Jerusalem who have this friendship already and this dynamic. The dialogues are mostly improvised. We needed them to bring a lot of their own spirit into it.

In your director's note you drew comparisons between religion versus faith, individuality versus collective identity and then the battle between fantasy and reality. I want to dive further into these comparisons, especially in how they relate to your film.

Yeah, I would love to. In the first part we talked about religion as a framework and then faith as something that is more metaphysical. I think that especially for Judaism, there's a lot of conversation in the non reform worlds– in the religious worlds of how much should the practice change according to an individual, according to the times, or according to certain conditions. This debate and this discourse is always alive.

For example, in America, if you see someone having tattoos and wearing shorts, they could be super Christian, but you wouldn’t know. In Judaism there's a lot of things around modesty. So asking yourself where you can challenge things and the process of leaving the community, but not as a rebellious thing, more as an individual search thing. Where does it meet you inside and where does it meet you outside?

One of the characters, Arava, she's quiet and she says out loud, "I don't believe in this shit anymore. It's not with me anymore. I don't care." She has done some bad stuff and, and then there's the other girl who is always talking about God, but she's the one doing things that are quote unquote questionable. She's the one that wants to go, pray, and go through this process of redemption, but the other one ends up doing it instead. It's kind of how practice and belief are sometimes really far away from each other.

That's so interesting. There's a lot of different pieces of cinema written and revolved around the Jewish community, especially in New York. So it's super interesting to hear from you and your perspective on it. Maybe not just showing the modesty, rules, or the things that are for people who aren't Jewish.

I love that you said that, because sometimes I'm like, does what I try to do actually communicate? What you said is so reassuring because that was one of my biggest challenges. When I see all these films that showed in Cannes, that were kind of anti-orthodox, or films that talk about oppression of women in the orthodox community. It's shocking.

For shock value.

Exactly. Filmmakers kind of unfortunately fall into knowing that, okay, if I make a film about an oppressed woman in the orthodox community, people are gonna click, people are gonna wanna see it. I don't see my own representation in anything actually. When we were kids, we were punk fucks, but we looked like teenagers everywhere. But because it happens in Jerusalem, it has an extra thing to it that I think is interesting.

I find these topics so interesting where someone is brought up to believe certain things and then develops that intrinsic feeling inside to question that, which I feel takes a lot of strength and bravery. Going against what you already know, especially in communities where you're so conditioned to believe that things are one way.

We all have taboos in our society in different ways. Once you're not a part of mainstream society, you are probably more likely to question certain things. That's the case with the characters in my film.

What message do you want your audience to take away after watching your movie?

I always have a different feeling when I think about that. Every day it's something else, but I guess today I would say that I really would love the audience to not look at the characters in a judgmental way. And on the same note, to not look at people in such a judgmental way, in a polarizing way. I would love to bring a little bit more nuance back to the way we look at people and their worlds.

Culture

Twenty 20-Somethings Tell Us How They Really Feel

July 31, 2023

As I grow older, a quote by the poet Fatimah Asghar continues to ring in my head; she said, "Every year I managed to live on this earth, I collect more questions than answers." As the days blended into nights, I would lay with my thoughts, untangling the existential mess of my self-worth, ambition, life's purpose, and the inevitability of my death and that of my loved ones. The cyclical nature of thinking about my existential disposition became exhausting. Day in and day out, I would grasp at answers, only left with more questions. In this state of perpetual questioning, I would feel alone, useless, tired, and ultimately defeated. Though I realized I may never have answers, an urge overcame me.

One night, I isolated the feeling of loneliness, where this existential pressure felt as though I was detached from the people around me and my environment. Acknowledging this feeling prompted me to ask friends, and friends of friends, how often they experience existential angst or dread and how they navigate it.

Text and Photos by Michael Anthony Hall

Although my journey of acknowledgment and confrontation is far from actualized, hearing others bare their vulnerabilities, anxieties, and understandings has been helpful–as I hope it is for you. After weeks of interviewing twenty 20-somethings around the Los Angeles area and capturing their portrait, one thing has stood out: we're more interconnected than we sometimes realize. In these interviews, where each individual ranges in age, class, sexuality, and race, the common thread is that we are all navigating our 20s, where each year feels like a lifetime of change and growth. And our existence and the existence of others do not live in a vacuum, though intermingling with one another, where anxieties and looming dread aren't abnormal but human.

Below are a collection of interviews by twenty 20-somethings attempting to make sense of the existential–where I hope their insight and discoveries elicit something within you.

Mary Acosta Flandez, 25

How often do you experience existential angst?

Every few months, I ask myself what's the point of working so hard with no results, and I want to give it all up.

How do you navigate those feelings?

I navigate those feelings by meditating, seeing my loved ones, and journaling always helps.

Kailyn Brown, 28

How often do you experience existential angst?

I wouldn’t say that I experience existential angst on a regular basis, but when it’s present, it’s present in a very real way.

How do you navigate those feelings?

I think it’s difficult to walk through life without questioning your life’s purpose and the overall meaning of why you’re here, to begin with. (I envy folks who don’t have these feelings.) That thought alone brings me anxiety but also excitement because I know that there’s something bigger than me at play. The thought of our inevitable death doesn’t scare me, but when I think about the people that I love dying — especially my elders — that brings me great anxiety and sadness to imagine life without them. Or even thinking about how my loved ones will feel about my passing. The fact that we have no idea when/how/where we’ll die is a wild thought to me, but I think I’d be even more anxious and probably paranoid if I knew those details.

The political climate, however, does bring me extreme anxiety, so I try not to think about it often though it’s difficult not to when it impacts your life. I’m worried about the direction we’re going in as a country and as a people overall, but I try my best to focus on the things that I can control because otherwise, I’d be a wreck. I work in media, so it can be easy to fall into a rabbit hole of all of the bad things happening in the world, so I have to be diligent about keeping a positive outlook on life/the world. My friends, family, faith, and my personal desire to leave a mark on this world helps me navigate this existential angst. I think it’s helped me to be delu-lu (delusional) at times and try to focus on the good/positive things in life.

Jester Bulnes, 21

How often do you experience existential angst?

Sometimes I really don't experience that per se, but that would be a total lie because it is something that does cross my mind every now and then. The art program that I just had, I was thinking about it a little bit in the sense of “What am I doing with my life and with making art?” I was gone painting for a week, and I was like, “Holy shit, that's what I want to do.” I was starting to get into a little hole of “Why am I painting?” And “What’s my purpose?” There are bigger issues in the world, especially with our current climate, where everything is so polarized and crazy. It does make you wonder, “What is the point of it all?” So that is something that I think about every now and then, definitely not too frequently.

How do you navigate those feelings?

If I had a really bad day, or something more monumental was to shift my mood and make me more down, I might ponder that. I tend to snap out of that quickly because, again, I am reminded of my life and the things that I'm doing right now. I think given the way I grew up and was raised, things weren't what I wanted, versus now, where I’m in a place where I'm able to do what I want, and I do have a bit more freedom creatively. I'm able to live my life how I want to and become the queer person I want to be. It has allowed me to see what I want in the world, build my community of close friends, and have familial friendships. It also pulls me out of that mindset where I can't save the entire world but can do what I can within my circle and community. It's so corny, but living every day like it's my last. I have that mindset where I make my bed every day, and that's one task done. So if I didn't do anything that day, at least I made my bed, and that feels like I completed something.

Having been kicked out when I was 18, I've been on my own for X amount of time. It really enabled me to have my shit together. It almost feels like sometimes I can't have those bad days because I have to keep going. It’s wanting to be the best version of myself, so I can give back to those who are younger than me. I had a lot of mentors and other people who were older than me, took an interest in me, and guided me in some way, whether they are still in my life or not. One of the most fulfilling things is leaving an imprint on someone. That's something that I would like to do for other people in some way.

Kelley Camberos, 29

How often do you experience existential angst?

In a world that’s over-saturated with media, it's easy to become overwhelmed with existential anxieties and feelings of dread. I can’t help but feel bombarded by the mixed messages, the routine violence, and the capitalist value system that has me on a constant pursuit of consumption. I often find myself wondering if I’m doing enough, experiencing enough, or creating enough during my time in this body. I guess I’m always afraid of wasting my time. I think that existential anxiety is a natural feeling and mental process meant to guide us. I mean, it's healthy to question the point of it all and our purpose on the planet. While usually deeply unsettling, these feelings keep me grounded in what really matters and offer opportunities for realignment when I feel out of sync.

How do you navigate those feelings?

Sometimes when I really start to get in my head, I think of my mom. I think of her journey through life and how different it is from mine. How she’s navigated the world like a warrior, so tirelessly with so much baggage as a woman, mother, and immigrant. I reflect on how she doesn’t believe in anxiety and thinks of it as a social construct. This reminds me that I’m lucky to have the headspace to take on existential thoughts and feelings. It's proof I’m not in survival mode. I have the security to reflect, remembering that grounds me.

Brittany Callejas, 23

How often do you experience existential angst?

I experience existential angst once every other day. It used to be way more often when I had more time alone in my thoughts. Nowadays, I feel more robotic in my day to day. Having bills to pay sucks the life out of you, so I don't have time to ponder my existence or the meaning of life when the meaning at this moment feels like working to survive. I get too tired to think at the end of the day and spend time numbing my brain instead of doing anything productive. I only find myself out of the toxic cycle of working, surviving, and numbing when I remember my inevitable death. I think about how one day I will die, and what sucks more than being broke is knowing that I kept myself from making art and experiencing life because I was busy working and exhausting myself to "survive." Or worse, caring about how others will perceive my art or how I exist. Death has always been a motivator for me to do anything. I don't fear death; I fear not living a fulfilling life Im proud of. I tend to have paralyzing thoughts that keep me from doing anything. When I remember how temporary I am in this world, it helps me escape those thoughts. Nothing is that serious at the end of the day. People forget, move on, or overthink their own lives to even think about you for too long.

How do you navigate those feelings?

I navigate these feelings by creating, interacting, or being in nature. I won't last forever, but I'd like to leave a sprinkle of my existence. I don't need to be well known, but I want to know that I at least was able to impact those around me positively. I gave back to the Earth to some degree. I interacted with nature and became a voice for it. I created something that could move someone somewhere, even if just an inch. I said something that resonated with someone so much that it shifted their mindset just a bit. The knowledge of death, the realness of death, makes life worth living, so for that, I'm grateful for death. I don't think I'd feel as much as I do without it.

Jess Callejas, 27

How often do you experience existential angst?

I used to feel it every day until I learned to be better in tune with myself. All of my teen years up until my mid-twenties, I was a very angsty person. Now these days, it’s ever so often when those feelings arise, but when they do, they can last for weeks.

How do you navigate those feelings?

I definitely lean into any existential dread I’m feeling by amplifying it with music. When I was younger, I thought being existential meant putting on a 3-hour existentialist film and feeling it all but also feeling nothing. I think there’s a middle ground between all of that. Navigating your feelings is sort of a day-to-day thing, but I think for me, the best way to define something I can’t quite understand is by leaning into it, whether it be going on walks, calls, journaling, reading, or watching a film by myself. Romanticizing the ordinary is definitely one way to pull myself out of any funk I’m feeling.

In a way, I find peace in trying to navigate my life through some existential lens, it’s weird, but it helps me create a balance. It gives me a moment to check in with myself and say wait, why does any of this matter? Who is this for? None of this matters. If I like it, If I don’t? I should just do whatever it is I want without having to think of the anxieties of my own life. When dread becomes a crisis, that’s when I need to peel back and have open dialogue conversations with my friends who feel the same way. I think the worst thing you could do is avoid how you feel.

Markele Cullins, 28

How often do you experience existential angst?

I have existential angst every day. Literally every day. I'm in an everyday kind of phase, but it varies based on what's happening in my life. I was born with a lot of existential dread—just the nature of how my life has gone and continues to go.

How do you navigate those feelings?

Not to be super nerdy, but I navigate a lot of it by reading Audrey Lorde’s essay, The Erotic as Power. It's something I always think about. How could I not only exist but how can I thrive? As an earth sign, I struggle to feel emotion sometimes, or at least sit with them. So existential dread fucks me up. It's understanding when it's time to really sit with those feelings and when it's time to work through them. I've been trying to exercise. I had a moment a couple of months ago where I was feeling so much dread, and I literally didn't know what I could do to feel better. My friends were like, “Oh girl, we was exercising every day, we felt so good.” And I started running the next day. So just trying to figure out low-cost ways to make sure that my mind and my body are intact but also feel healthy. Honestly, it’s so fucking hard right now because the world is in shambles. Waking up today, this morning on Instagram, and seeing all the Supreme Court shit–thing after thing after thing. Roe vs. Wade being overturned just happened, and we're back again to more things being set back. So It's hard. Some days I just don't confront it, and I don't navigate it, and it overtakes me, and I think that's also fine.

Ryan Fuller, 25

How often do you experience existential angst?

I think I most often experience existential angst at least once a week. More often, I question my existence in the world and how death can easily arise. My most daunting question to myself has always been…what is the point?

How do you navigate those feelings?

Take walks by myself with no music playing and just soak in the environment around me. I think it’s important for me to think alone to get through it. I do not think this always works, but lately, it has been for me.

Blessing Greer-Mathurin, 23

How often do you experience existential angst?

I think about existentialism daily, but I don't dread it or feel anxious daily about it. So when it comes to complete dread, maybe every couple of months, but that's usually prompted by something not going how I wanted it to go. It's not a mental timer that comes up, where it's like, “Time to dread existence.” It's more of an “Oh, I felt uncomfortable in that situation,” and now I exist in this [moment].

How do you navigate those feelings?

I lean on the arts a lot. I create something out of those feelings, so I write poems or draw- when I was younger, I would paint to make those feelings tangible. Now I'll start either reading autobiographies from artists or writers to understand how they dealt with those thoughts or how they just deal with how life unfolds for them. I'll go out to the dance floor. That's one thing that I have been finding a lot of soothing. Not even necessarily participating, just to see all these people in a space together and be guided by music and existing in this room, away from their day-to-day lives and seeing people inhibited enjoying themselves, and then I'm like, “Oh, this is a big part of what it means to feel alive,” these moments of communion. I also find purpose in working in arts organizations and facilitating projects that help people feel more at home within themselves and in the world through arts. It all makes me feel more intentional and present. Something bigger than myself takes care of and soothes me; in a way, it’s God. I find that through people, through music, through art, through experience.

Michael Anthony Hall, 24

How often do you experience existential angst?

Lately, every night. When I start unwinding while lying in bed, reflecting, and sitting with my thoughts, that’s when it overcomes me.

How do you navigate those feelings?

I used to numb the thoughts of existentialism and associated feelings with copious amounts of weed/ other drugs, where I’d inevitably fall asleep day in and day out. As I continue to age, I try not to mask feelings of anxiety with anything but confrontation. But it's easier said than done. You’d think as a writer, I’d have a journal where I pen every thought and emotion, but unfortunately, that isn't the case. My form of internal confrontation and acknowledgment is sitting; sometimes, if god willing, I meditate and understand these feelings aren't singular or only affecting me. My growth has been recognizing that these feelings interconnect all angsty 20-somethings and that life is as meaningful and purposeful as you make it. And knowing you aren't alone.

Justin Jackson, 26

How often do you experience existential angst?

When I was younger definitely on a daily. I think as a child and mourning a death so close to me, a maternal one at that, it shifted something inside of me and cast a distant shadow-like depression without fully realizing it until I got older. I definitely experienced it for 10 years consecutively; it was during that time of mourning and just not understanding. As I’ve gotten older, it’s subsided, and it feels less as often and as intense, but I do have my moments maybe once a month where I’m kind of on pause, grappling with existence in general.

How do you navigate those feelings?

Knowing that I was put here at this time for a reason helps me navigate any indifference I feel. I truly do believe everything happens for a reason, and this life we have, truly bizarre as it may be, is uniquely ours. Knowing every day I strive for freedom in all avenues of my life, be it spiritually/mentally/emotionally/physically, is a starting point. There’s so much to be done, and finding what it is that I feel guided by helps navigate that on a daily, being a vessel for those who are no longer here too. Friends and strangers who guide me on my path and illuminate so much I don’t see at times aid in that, too, just to be more tender with myself.

Gabriel Lopez, 21

How often do you experience existential angst?

I experience it every day.

How do you navigate those feelings?

There isn’t a quick fix to escaping that feeling. When I'm in the thick of it, I remind myself to ride it out because it’s going to come up whether I like it or not. Because of what I’m going through in my life right now, especially just turning 21, I feel an immense amount of pressure (mainly coming from myself) to start being serious about my life. The more I start to think about my future, as much as I want to control it and complete certain things at certain moments of my life, I realize that’s impossible. Life is constantly changing day by day. What I may want in a year might not be what I truly desire in a year. Or what I want may not be what’s right for me.

Our fate is out of our control, but the way we react to it is within our control. When I experience anxiety, I allow myself to feel it and recognize it for what it is, which is anxiety. At the moment, it’s hard to remind yourself, “Oh, you’re going to be fine. You don’t need to figure your life out right now.”. It’s a lot easier said than done. But I move forward by going with the flow and being patient with myself. No matter where life takes me, I want to be happy. I want to feel content with myself and the people around me. I want to stay proud of myself for continuing to live despite how confusing life is. And most importantly, I want to continue creating from the heart.

Megan Morales, 22

How often do you experience existential angst?

More often than I like to admit.

How do you navigate those feelings?

I listen to podcasts a lot, and someone like Alan Watts makes me feel less anxious about things.

Being still and talking to myself about these issues relaxes my body and mind therefore, I have the capacity to think and feel out my emotions until I arrive at an answer. It’s a long process with myself, but once I can finally understand them, I get to have conversations with others who relate.

Cairo Pertum, 26

How often do you experience existential angst?

I experience existential angst frequently. I suppose it comes with the territory of being in an “in-between” space in age. Halfway through my 20s and onto my 30s. There’s a bit of societal pressure and urgency that comes along with reaching 30, and that - coupled with my own natural feelings of inadequacy, can leave me with a certain hopelessness and helplessness. I tend to usually reflect on my younger years with a sense of dread, feeling that I’ve left a lot of things unfinished, with endeavors that I never got around to pursuing.

How do you navigate those feelings?

In navigating these feelings, the best thing I can do for myself is consider my peers and tell myself that this is a natural progression that comes with reaching another chapter of adulthood. Most everyone my age feels similarly, and it’s all a matter of perspective. I have every right to choose to look at things from a different angle. Without these feelings, at this specific moment in time, I may not ever get around to changing the way I think or pursue things in life. These years could very well serve as a catalyst for change as I move into a new horizon. Gratitude is so essential to well-being in these pivotal moments as well, and it’s important to remind myself of that.

Tatiana Roache, 29

How often do you experience existential angst?

I often think about the greater meaning behind why we are here. I find that as I’m exposed to more information and the American capitalism bubble continues to grow, the veil of the hamster wheel rat race is completely exposed. Especially working in the entertainment industry.

How do you navigate those feelings?

I’ve turned to spirituality to keep me grounded. My consistent prayer is for God to use me as a vessel. Whatever my reason for being here, I want to see that mission through. Touching the lives, I am meant to, or being of service to the people I am meant to help are the goals and milestones that keep me from freaking out about the unknown. No matter what happens tomorrow, I know I’ve aligned myself with a purpose greater than my own, and that brings me peace.

Violeta Valdez, 24

How often do you experience existential angst?

I’d say a minimum of 5 times a week or so. I work closely with a lot of people navigating through life after years of incarceration. Hearing stories about their upbringing in LA and seeing them adjust to society again really makes me question what we consider freedom. It’s also led me to think about what’s a non-materialistic purpose or goal to achieve in this lifetime. Everyone has different answers, and I’ve yet to find mine.

How do you navigate those feelings?

I think we’re all deep in the unknown, I find solace in that. I personally had a bad habit of compartmentalizing existentialism to navigate through my day. Now I journal my shadow work. Shadow work is working with your unconscious mind to uncover the parts of yourself that you repress and hide from yourself. There are parts of existentialism that we avoid because it brings out something we deeply fear, like being alone, a loss of control, or being unable to stop the inevitable. Solving those questions within yourself, like why you’re afraid not to have control, leads to past traumas or experiences that your body has repressed. Providing attention to those issues really helps you solve the bigger picture; so far, it’s helped me feel comfortable with the bigger picture.

Andrew Valdovinos, 25

How often do you experience existential angst?

I experience existential angst during low periods of creative inactivity. Angst, in my opinion, amplifies the feeling of limitless uncertainty— the inability to see what is to come in your life, a dead end that fades to black in your mind and leaves you wondering in the ether of life. To combat that feeling of untethered uncertainty, I learned how to express my desires and feeling through fiber arts (knit and crochet) and writing.

How do you navigate those feelings?

Because angst lives in the ether of intangibility within my mind, I ultimately ground myself in tangible to sedate the angst. To combat that feeling of untethered uncertainty, I learned how to express my desires and feeling through fiber arts (knit and crochet) as well as writing. These mediums of self-expression allowed me to create extensions of my emotion outside of myself, transmitting the energy of my angst into the work that I have desired to create.

Ívy Velazquez, 21

How often do you experience existential angst?

It comes in periods. Maybe one week, I've noticed that I'm very existential, where I’m questioning things nonstop, slowing down. Then the next week, just be super motivated, not thinking and just doing, creating and hustling more, and not being so existential. Not Saying that being existential is completely negative, but sometimes it can take you into a dark rabbit hole. So, I would say every other week– it comes in waves.

How do you navigate those feelings?

What keeps me going is my art/creating, the inspiration from my family's lineage, history, and journey of coming to the US from Mexico for a better life, and just appreciating the fun, small things in life that I cherish and romanticize. Then it’s just a matter of surviving; living under capitalism, we have to make money in order to survive, so it feels like I have no other choice but to keep going even when I wish I could pause. But then there'll be times when I get really unmotivated with my art and don’t have that spark/intention that I usually have with me or motivation to keep going. It may be an ADHD thing since I’m very forgetful and forget/lose my intentions a lot, or it can be an insecurity thing, making it feel pointless. It’s a “What is the point of this,” “I don’t want to be perceived,” and “Where am I going with this once I complete what I want, then what?” “Why am I even doing my art,” which I think is important [to confront and question]. That happens often subconsciously, and then the motivation fades away.

I'm learning more about myself, about cognitive behavioral thoughts, teaching me that your negative thoughts are not always true. Now I'm just trying to be more aware of my thoughts, seeing it from a third-person perspective. It's hard sometimes, and sometimes it's easy to believe, letting it alter and distort your reality and perspective on life, and then you forget your positive intentions and motivations, but I'd say just take a step back and look at where these thoughts are coming from and acknowledge that. I'm still learning and still have trouble with it, and I really don't have the perfect solution. It is difficult not to be so pessimistic, especially with all the crazy things happening in our world, but what I want is to have more optimism and keep that curiosity in me that my inner child holds. What helps me that I've noticed is going through my photos of memories of my experiences with my loved ones and my art, or going through my Ig story archives since I document the things that bring humor & moments that I cherish in life through that. I love documenting the small things and details I cherish/find interesting in life, so going through that brings me back to that self-love, reminding me of all the cool and fun things that I’ve been doing, all the amazing people that surround me and that have inspired me, and remembering that it’s a privilege to be from Los Angeles even though it can be crazy, especially growing up here. It’s a good reminder for me that you take control of how you create and perceive your life/human experience, and even if you start to get existential at times and feel things are really nothing and pointless, or not might as well just observe, enjoy, & have fun with it (if it’s pessimistic then express it through something you enjoy).

I get really anxious when I start overthinking. And I have pressure on me to the point where I get scattered thoughts and can't continue what I'm doing. There will be weeks where I'm super productive, and there'll be weeks where I'm existential, reflecting more. Now I'm learning to use that as inspiration for my art instead of having it boil me with anxiety– transmuting and expressing that energy, whether good or bad, into creating a lot of my artwork. I go into hibernation mode for a period of time and then creation mode. The art I’ve been doing lately has been for other people, it’s more structured, and I’m blessed and thankful for the opportunity, but I want to tap back into making art from that energy for myself because that’s when I find meaning through no meaning. I know a lot of artists feel the same way.

Amber Zarate, 29

How often do you experience existential angst?

I have experienced it every day since my father passed away when I was five. I was confronted with that immediately after I became conscious of how I was five years old and realized that I could watch SpongeBob but also experience having to go to a funeral the next day. It was very eye-opening. So, I've experienced it and thought about it every day. And I think it's made me who I am.

How do you navigate those feelings?

Everything I do is rooted in wanting a deeper understanding of what's next. But there's no tangible answer yet. I'm constantly searching, whether it's through art, books, films, friendships, freelance modeling, you know, I do all of these things to experience different views on what I'm here for because I learned when at such a young age, it's so fragile.

From day to day, I journal, and I smoke weed every day, which I acknowledge isn’t the best, but that really helps. Music is my biggest escapism, being able to relate to songs, and it's so accessible to you; I could just open Spotify, and it's just as good as taking a drag of a cigarette. I'll listen to music, and I read a lot. If I can't do that, and it's not hot enough, I hike a lot alone. I hike on the trail adjacent to where my father passed away, on the street, because he passed away in a drunk driving accident. So on that street, there's a trail that leads to deeper trails, and that's where I always start. It's just the way I could deeper connect to him and those emotions that were brought up during his death, and how those make me question life and how I can confront it immediately or not so immediately.

Lizzie Zhang, 24

How often do you experience existential angst?

I experience existential angst pretty frequently. But I have also pretty distinctly gone through different phases of holding it in different ways. Right now, I'm in a good moment with it, where it just feels like an annoying kid at the park that I'm kind of hanging out with, and we're playing tag. It's like, “Alright, you again?

How do you navigate those feelings?

It's learning to sit with it and knowing it's very normal. This is what connects you to your community. This is what connects you to your closest friends. This is what makes you a better friend. This is what makes you a person who can relate to others in deeper ways. In the deeper ways that you've always wanted to be able to connect with others. Also, it so clearly exists in tandem with what I love to do—exploring that and how to bring the existential dread of it all through me and my art. I feel like I'm in a playful moment with existential dread.

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