When we put out our call for this issue, we sought the ambivalent pull of the double, the mirror. The space for the twin within and outside of the body and the text. We sought artists who engaged with the other and who simultaneously embraced and resisted their otherness.

As writers and artists and radicals, as minorities, we seek to explore the beauty and the horror of the other. We reject the binaries. We reject how binaries separate and mimic and burn. We reject the binaries and stare them in the face.

The work that we share here is that radical rejection of dominant othering. It begins to answer the question posed by Luce Irigaray: “You have come back, divided: ‘we’ are no more. You are split into red and white, black and white. How can we find each other again? Touch each other?”

We invite you to engage with this work that goes back to the radicle, the root as it emerges from the seed in the space before the split. Because in order to have change, we need to find one another, truly. To touch. And to shatter the mirror that reflects back otherness. To find Irigaray again with this issue we say:

“Let them have their strange division by couples, in which the other is the image of the one, but an image only. For them, being drawn to the other means a move toward one’s mirage: a mirror that is (barely) alive. Glacial, mute, the mirror is all the more faithful. Our vital energies are spent in this wearisome labor of doubling and miming. We have been destined to reproduce—that sameness in which, for centuries, we have been the other.”

With this issue, we reclaim an otherness that thrives. We share with you the hot breath on the mirror as it’s shattered.


With love,

Sally Seck, Brenna Lee & Heather Goodrich, Editors