A Community Reading List

Kaia Burke recommends—
Courtney Bryant Prince, Erotic Defiance 

The text I chose to contribute to this list is Erotic Defiance by Courtney Bryant Prince. I think in the current climate as we figure out what our respective communities need we must look at the organizing tactics of Black women. Black women particularly have been leaders in grassroots organizing and created the tools we use to work towards collective liberation. This includes relaxation, love, and communal care. Organizing and radical change includes radical healing and love. We cannot know what that means without looking to and listening to Black femmes. This includes all facets of Black femininity including trans womanhood, afab nonbinary people, etc. No one is free until all Black femmes are. As we live in an increasingly dangerous and fascist society, careening towards dictatorship, we have to learn how to love each other and work together beyond our perceived differences. The threat we face is larger than us all and threatens us all. Let’s embrace radical love and radical organizing!

Emily Guo recommends—
Yu Hua, To Live

The book I would like to share is To Live, by Chinese writer, Yu Hua. It is a novel that addresses us directly in the crises we are individually and collectively facing today. Published in 1993, it follows Fugui, the son of a successful landowner who loses everything and struggles through the changing political and social upheaval of 20th-century China. Through tragedy and suffering, Fugui finds meaning through survival and human connection.

I chose To Live because it speaks to the kind of resilience one must have in uncertain times. In 2025, when we are grappling with economic crises, ecological disasters, and international displacement, the novel’s motifs of survival and accommodation sound particularly apropos. Fugui’s battle is not a battle of heroic resistance but one of stoic endurance—a virtue that is more often underestimated in resistance and justice stories. His life reflects that of so many today who are caught up in forces beyond their control but still attempt dignity in the ordinary.

To Live denounces structural injustices and patterns of suffering generated by historical and political authority. While the novel is written against China’s history, it invites us to think about how authoritarianism, capitalism, and social change frame lives in all contexts. It asks us to think about what it means to “live”as more than survival. Instead, it proposes finding meaning in community, memory, and the most everyday acts of care.

For a writing community, To Live is an essential book because it reminds us of the power of literature to contain human resilience. It asks us to think about the intersection of history and individual experience, offering a lens through which we can see ourselves and the world around us more clearly.

Bio
My name is Emily. I’m currently studying at Parsons in NYC. My major is Fashion Design. Many times, my inspiration comes from literary works. I am in awe of the power contained within the words of literature. Ever since I was young, I have loved writing—not to craft great essays, but simply to write a few sentences, a few words, or a page—to record moments and preserve memories. One day in the future, when I open my notebook, I will be able to return to the day I wrote those words and recall the emotions and feelings of that moment.

Sara Al Hajri recommends—
Warsen Shire, “Home”

Warsan Shire’s poem “Home” reaches beyond language, into the marrow of fear and longing. It is an elegy for the displaced, a visceral outcry that collapses the distance between the reader and the refugee. Shire does not write about migration as a concept or an abstract problem; she writes about it as a desperate, bruised reality.

“No one leaves home unless / home is the mouth of a shark.” 

These words sit like a stone in the chest, heavy and unmovable. I can’t read them without imagining the taste of salt on the lips, the ache of running, the desperate wish to stay in a place that has already turned its teeth on you. Shire dares to make visible what we often ignore: that fleeing is not a desire but an inevitability, born out of violence and fear.

I think about how easily the word “refugee” rolls off the tongues of those who’ve never had to imagine burning their palms on hot metal or crawling under barbed wire just to wake up alive. Shire tears through that apathy with images so brutal, so tender, they make the skin ache. It is a poem that holds the truth too often hidden: that refugees are not running towards comfort, but away from death.

“Home” resonates on a deeply personal and universal level. It’s not just a poem about refugees, it’s about the human condition when safety becomes a distant memory and survival the only option. As I read it, I can’t help but think of how displacement is not a historical footnote or a faraway tragedy. It’s happening right now, today—people are being forced from their homes all over the world, from Palestine to Sudan, Ukraine to Syria. It’s a relentless cycle, where borders become barriers and human lives are reduced to numbers and news clips.

Including Home in our community reading list is an act of solidarity. It reminds us that poetry is not just art—it is resistance, a voice for those who cannot speak because the world has muted them. As we face ongoing global crises, and the world feels like it’s on fire, Shire’s words call us to confront our own humanity. Homeis a reminder that safety is not a given, that borders are drawn by those who hold power, and that empathy can be a form of resistance.

. . . and June Jordan, “Poem About My Rights”

In this moment, when autonomy over our bodies, our lives, and our identities is constantly under threat, Jordan’s words resonate more than ever. The poem makes me think about how often I have tried to minimize myself, to make my voice smaller, safer, or more acceptable. Jordan’s defiance reminds me that my voice is mine, that my existence is not up for debate, that I too can say I am not wrong. Including Poem About My Rights in our community reading list is essential because it doesn’t just speak to personal struggle; it confronts the political forces that shape that struggle. It teaches us that to live fully, to claim our space, is itself a radical act.

In Jordan’s words, I find not just the courage to speak, but the strength to keep pushing against every force that tries to silence me. It is a reminder that our rights are not granted, but inherent, and to live as if that is true is an act of rebellion.

Heather Petropoulos recommends—
Sarah Thankam Matthews, All This Could Be Different 

I recently finished Sarah Thankam Matthews’s All This Could Be Different and am thrilled to share it with our writing community. What impresses me most about this novel is how it meets the current moment even though it is set in Milwaukee during Obama’s second term. Matthews reveals her themes through an intersectional lens. The novel’s protagonist, Sneha, from India, has been living in the United States without her parents since she was seventeen. She and her chosen family struggle with economic instability, drug use, and expressing their gender and sexuality. Matthews does a remarkable job of balancing the “real world” macro of a working-class city in the United States with the intimate micro of discovering your place in the world and in your friend group. The supporting characters who become Sneha’s chosen family are fresh and have relatable and realistic arcs. One plot line that especially resonated with me in the present state of our world is the idea one of Sneha’s friends, Tig, has to live with her friends in a communal house. Throughout the novel this idea moves from notes in a black leather journal to an Excel spreadsheet, Sneha creates a home the friends spend time in together during a reunion. There are many different ways to live in harmony with one another. In All This Could Be Different, Matthews offers a way that has lingered in my mind since I finished the final word on the last page. From her vision, hope.

Bio
I am Heather, a queer poet, writer, still and motion imagery artist and music project creator. I am a junior finishing my BA in the BPATS program. When I am not reading and writing for my degree studies, I work on my ongoing project at photomixedtapes.com. 

Daniel Beutter recommends—
Ismatu Gwendolyn, “the role of the artist is to load the gun.”

This essay is by my current favorite essayist, artist, activist, revolutionary, world-shaper, called Ismatu Gwendolyn. This essay of theirs, “The Role of the Artist is to Load the Gun”, as well as their video “Class Traitor” on their YouTube channel, have been my north stars while I’ve been mulling over this question about what the role of an artist is. Art is a form of communication. The role of the artist is to communicate whatever it is they intend to communicate–it is that content that’s relevant. 

They often speak to the insidiousness of the use of a revolutionary exterior that hides exploitative capitalist business practices. For the writers out there who do desire to use their work for liberatory purposes (which is not inherent—let’s not fall into the artist’s trap of jumping the gun on self-congratulation) their work offers incredible insight on navigating these systems in a way that has integrity, that prioritizes liberation over trying to position oneself as somehow removed from others by means of artistic prowess. Artists are only as good as their ability to serve the people.

Zoie Mull recommends—
Various Horoscopes (The Weekly Stars, Good Horoscope, Small Spells, Star Quality)

I’m very impressed with those who are in school, working full-time, managing today’s chaos without combusting, and reading for their own personal fun. I can’t find the time. I have been reading various horoscopes when taking a momentary break from all that I have listed above. Horoscopes help me find my place in time and remember the cyclical nature of things, which helps me to feel a bit less doom. It doesn’t subside it entirely, but it helps. 

Some of my favorite Substack publications from astrologers are linked above. Some of them are paid, but have free/public posts. Some of them do weekly horoscopes while others focus on specific transits that occur and shift the mood of the population. In particular, there are several outer planets that have switched signs or are in the process of doing so. Pluto has changed signs and has found its home in Aquarius, where it will remain until 2044. Neptune just went into Aries, where it will remain until 2039, with the exception of a brief retrograde period later this year. Uranus will enter Gemini in July and remain there until 2032, also with an exception of a brief retrograde period. Astrologers have noted this year as “the year where everything changes,” which I think was stated by astrologers Austin Coppock and Chris Brennan on The Astrology Podcast.

I don’t mean to sound unacademic, but I am having a hard time separating myself from the news and the current administration’s actions. I cannot find the time for personal joy or attainment right now. I have just been trying to remember that things aren’t forever, even if they feel like it. Having correlations between news stories and astrological transits helps me not get weighed down or sucked in. In my classes, I’m reading things like The Grapes of Wrath and sociology studies on the effects of institutionalization on the body. I can’t seem to get away from reality. I’m looking forward to the summer when I will have a chance to step away from academia and simply read things that benefit me personally. For now, though, reading horoscopes is what helps keep me grounded. If you’re looking for an escape from the status quo, like I have described, perhaps consider checking out one of these skilled astrologers I have linked.

Yeji Shin recommends—
Simin Yoo, “나의 내란 진압 소감” (Korean; tr. “My Thoughts on Suppressing the Civil War”)

On April 4 this year, the President of South Korea was impeached (here’s a New York Times recap). In celebration of impeachment, I thought I’d share what happened in South Korea from the day of the martial law which was declared on December 3rd, until the president was impeached, and how we kept our democracy safe.Writer, Simin Yoo, shares his view of former president Yoon’s coup and the process of impeachment. For those who don’t know about him, he was a student activist during the 80s who fought against the military dictatorship led by Doo Hwan Chun and became a lawmaker in the early 2000s. He was eventually appointed minister of health and welfare but currently acts as a political commentator and journalist.

The martial law that was declared on the night of December 3rd was not just a false alarm, it wasYoon’s attempt to be a king of the democratic country, South Korea. It was a coup. American sociologist, C. Wright. Mills identifies the power elites as individuals who make all the decisions that really matter, in South Korea’s case, the President, lawmakers, Prime Minister, Commissioner General, constitutional judges, judges, Prosecutor General, journalists are the power elites. They all have contributed to Yoon’s recklessness from the start of his term to the end. It continues into the present day. . Lawmakers from the conservative party, PPP (People Power Party) birthed Yoon and justified his action including martial law. The two Prime Ministers who became acting presidents broke constitutional law by delaying electing a constitutional judge who was voted on by the members of the congress as long as they could (Acting president Duck-soo Han just elected one, 3 days after the constitutional court removed the president). Commissioner General and Prosecutor General each played a major role in the coup. Journalists of South Korea are known to favor the conservatives and they are also one of the many reasons why Yoon was able to win the election. 

How could South Korea keep their democracy against all those power elites who were desperate to turn the country backwards to the 80s when it was ruled by a dictator? Yoo suggests, though people elected Yoon about two years ago and the power elites put their profits before the constitution and country, that we still have something all-powerful. 

After the declaration of martial law, people of South Korea gathered around the national assembly building to stop the armed forces with their bare hands. Some military commanders ordered their troops not to cross the Han river to the building and some police commanders disobeyed their order made by the martial law headquarters to arrest lawmakers entering the building to vote against the martial law. 

Lastly, he writes that we might make another mistake in the future as we did whenelecting Yoon as our president. He asserts that we will make it right again. This a call of hope for the people of South Korea— those who were angered by the injustice from the start of his administration to his removal from office. It honors those who stood before the armed forces on the night of martial law and the youth who inspired the nation with the miracle of Nam Tae Ryung (Young people gathered to fight with farmer unions who drove their tractors to Seoul after a day of drive and stayed the night on the street until the police who halt the tractors entering Seoul was released.) To those who stayed the night in front of the constitutional court, the writer says thank you by quoting On Liberty by John Stuart Mill. Here is the translation of the Korean translation of the book— 

“When we look at the history of the thoughts and daily actions that humanity has developed, we can see that there is a characteristic of the human mind that has allowed our lives to be maintained without worsening, even in the current state. That is the ability to correct one’s mistakes. Through experience and discussion, people can rectify their wrongdoings. All the proud aspects of human beings as intellectual and moral creatures stem from this.”

Avee Charles recommends—
Alicia Magoro, Emotional Self-Care for Black Women

I chose Emotional Self-Care for Black Women by Alicia Magoro because it speaks directly to where I am in my life right now: learning how to give myself permission to pause, feel, and process. As a Black woman and creative who often pours into others, I’ve realized how easy it is to neglect my own emotional well-being in the name of productivity, resilience, or just “pushing through.” This book felt like someone holding up a mirror and gently saying, “You deserve softness, too.”What resonated with me most is how Magoro doesn’t just give abstract advice — she offers tangible practices like journaling, setting emotional boundaries, and making room for stillness, all rooted in cultural understanding. These tools have helped me reconnect with my voice, not just as a writer, but as a whole person. I’ve always believed that the most powerful writing comes from a place of truth — and you can’t write your truth if you haven’t given yourself space to feel it.

For a community of writers — especially Black women or anyone carrying emotional weight — this book can serve as both a resource and a reminder. It’s an invitation to prioritize your inner world so that your words can flow from a place of care, not just survival. I’m learning that emotional self-care isn’t a detour from the work; it is the work. And that, to me, is something worth sharing.

Bio
Jortae Avee Charles is a Philadelphia-born creative, fashion designer, and writer. As the founder of Aveeation, a contemporary brand rooted in nostalgia and cultural storytelling, she blends fashion, identity, and advocacy into her work. Currently studying business and entrepreneurship at The New School, Avee is passionate about healing through art and creating space for underrepresented voices. Her writing explores themes of memory, emotional care, and personal evolution. She believes in the power of storytelling as both a tool for liberation and a path toward community-building.

Yingchen Zheng recommends—
Elizabeth Grosz, Time Travels: Feminism, Nature, Power 

Time Travels: Feminism, Nature, Power is Elizabeth Grosz writing with clarity and force. She takes time, a concept usually treated as background, and places it at the center of feminist theory, politics, and cultural analysis. Time is not just something we move through. It is something that shapes who we are, what we become, and how change happens.

The strongest moments come early on, in her chapters on Darwin. Grosz makes the case that much of modern theory either misread him or ignored him entirely. She does neither. Instead, she argues that Darwin’s thinking on variation, evolution, and unpredictability can offer something valuable to feminism. Rather than discarding him for his historical biases, she asks what we lose when we stop engaging with thinkers who shaped the way we understand life itself.

Grosz then turns toward philosophy, drawing on Nietzsche and Deleuze, to shift focus from what we know to how things come to be. She questions the dominance of epistemology in feminist thought and calls for renewed attention to ontology, the nature of existence itself. These chapters are more abstract but they carry important weight. Grosz uses the concept of becoming to rethink subjectivity, identity, and politics as ongoing processes rather than fixed positions.

What stays with the reader is her idea of a politics of surprise. Real change cannot be predicted or controlled. Grosz invites us to remain open to what is still unknown, to think with time rather than against it. Time Travels: Feminism, Nature, Power is a demanding and rewarding read.

Bio
I am a design student who aspires to solve problems poetically.

Mandana Boushee recommends—
torrin a. greathouse, “Ode to the First Time I Wore a Dress & My Mother Did Not Flinch”

The first time I read “Ode to the First Time I Wore a Dress & My Mother Did Not Flinch” by torrin a. greathouse it felt like an earthquake, one of profound deliverance and inspiration. I come back to this poem often, as a sort of compass or altar in the name of possibility and as a place to worship the exquisiteness of greathouse’s craft. For me, this poem is a drink from the wells of creativity, inspiring me to push my writing farther. This poem has a way of inhabiting my dreams, especially right before bed, when I’m looking for inspiration. . There are so many lines I have crushes on: “How it stained my skin’s silhouette the color of a newborn bruise”; “In my mouth boyhood was a fawn, stomach lined with nettle blooms”; or “moth’s unfinished body from split cocoon.” I love the way the words sound when I read them aloud and the images that color my eyes. 

In a way, when I read good poetry, it feels as if my writing is in collaboration or in response to those experiences.It’s abridging of fabrics to make a quilt. As writers, we are always thrifting and sifting through discarded and coveted scraps of fabric to find meaning, and a square of our own to call home. “Ode to the First Time I Wore a Dress & My Mother Did Not Flinch” is a quilt I have worn down to a textured softness that can only be constructed through love and steady use.

Bio
Mandana Boushee is an Iranian-American ethnobotanist, community organizer, poet, earthworker, and joyous member of the mycelial network of liberatory-movement tenders and lovers. She finds herself rooted in supporting her community’s diverse relationships to the land, through empowering personal healing, reconnection, and centering of culturally relevant knowledge and traditional technologies. Through her shared wisdom and initiatives in the Mahicantuck (Hudson) Valley and through her work at the Northeast Farmers of Color Land Trust, she seeks to offer her community access to fertile land, healthy food, and equitable care.

Luke Copley recommends—
Micheal DeForge, Familiar Face

Familiar Face is a 2020 graphic novel that follows an unnamed protagonist through a strange future as she searches for a girlfriend who disappeared in the night. Part breakup story, part call to action, Familiar Face is funny, sad, and frighteningly recognizable.

DeForge is a Toronto-based comics artist who publishes eclectic comics with Drawn and Quarterly press. He’s done separate works covering the world of birds, ants, and a gaggle of creatures in a public park. His art is accessible and abstract, and his plots often carry a latent relevancy to the reader. It takes some time—admittedly, not long—to find yourself in sentient birds. 

Not the case for Familiar Face, which opens with our protagonist trying to recognize herself in an old picture on the internet.

DeForge never hides his politics—the birds have left earth and built a socialist utopia on the moon, for instance—but Familiar Face is clearer with its vitriol than others. One of its most effective tricks is just the inclusion of real logos and brands, a first for DeForge, as far as I can ascertain: as our protagonist’s body literally falls apart, Nike watches; as our protagonist decides to join to a group of anarchistic city planners to impress her ex, CitiBank sees.

Familiar Face casts a wide thematic net that, resonant with its release timing, tangles all manner of societal woes together: social isolation, social unrest, labor union disputes, roommate disputes, infrastructure decay, emotional decay, and the occasionally charming, occasionally maddening internet. It and the rest of DeForge’s work is available through Drawn and Quarterly and at most of the cool bookstores that remain.

Bio
Luke Copley is an NYC-based creative writing student. At his last school, he published strip comics with The Reflector, which netted him nods for Best Comic at the Mississippi Press Association Student Awards, but, crucially, not a win. During this time, he also served as opinion section editor, which he did win awards for, but, given the value the general populace puts on undergraduate opinions (low), he tries not to brag about this. He now teaches extracurricular art in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, but, crucially, not for the Metropolitan Museum of Art.