Big is so over

As I continue to divest from large social media and AI-powered platforms, while simultaneously remaining committed to writing and publishing in a free and open media world, I’ll be using this newsletter as a way to link to my plain old personal blog—where I’ve been enjoying writing much more frequently—as well as share other news about smoke and mold, celiumlit.net, and other events and publishing projects.

And to answer your question: no, I won’t be at AWP, and after years of dancing around this answer I’ve finally collected all of my reasons for not attending in one place, which you can read about in my blog post “Why I’m an AWP conscientious objector.” A taste:

It’s that time of year when I receive a barrage of emails and questions from well-meaning friends asking if I will be at AWP, the annual conference held by the Association of Writers & Writing Programs. As a writer, publisher of a literary journal, and independent workshop leader, I understand why people assume I would attend AWP. So I’d like to collect in one convenient place all of the reasons why I don’t go to AWP. My reasons range from the very personal to the global. I don’t currently advocate for a boycott of AWP, although this has less to do with the organization itself and more with how we claim personal and political agency as artists within the organizations we align ourselves with. These reasons should be read strictly as my own and not as a larger call to divest from AWP, even though at times the language I use may sound similar to this. Whether or not others decide to take up some of these reasons as their own is not up to me, though I do welcome company.

I made the above linocut prints about a week ago with only a vague idea of what they would ultimately be used for. Maybe a protest, although Portland’s large-scale protests have lately been anemic at best, and feel even more futile. I’ve been decorating my clothing more and more with similar slogans, and any time a stranger knocks on our door, the first thing out of their mouth is usually the disarming “I agree with all these signs!” Which, okay I guess. I ended up stringing some rope between two trees in our front median strip and hung them there for people to take or admire. It was an interesting exercise in seeing how this particular phrase changes depending on who is observing it and which ‘US’ they belong to. In our historically Black and increasingly gentrified neighborhood which hasn’t seen much ICE activity compared to other parts of Portland and other US cities, it can be read as disempowering. So to be clear, while I personally practice nonviolence, I enthusiastically support the rights of others in this country to use whatever means necessary in resisting the white supremacist, Christo-fascist violence that is an insidious part of our mundane.

However, on the international stage, I imagine and invite the possibility of abolition of the United States armed forces. As we assassinate and kidnap world leaders and advocate for regime change across the world, I wonder: Why can’t our despot be unseated? What prevents us from rising up and reclaiming our government? How different would the world be if we possessed no military might on the global stage? These are productive questions to be asking now and always.

In undergrad I studied abroad for ~6 months in Costa Rica, a country that abolished its military in 1948 as part of its constitutional reform. This was part of the reason many American Quakers immigrated to the country following WWII—to avoid future drafts, yes, but also I think psychologically, to live in a country without a military shifts something fundamentally inside of you. It serves as an indicator of the increasingly militarized time we live in that Costa Rica is now considering welcoming US military bases within its borders.

smoke and mold is officially open for submissions through the month of March. We’re also still accepting applications for managing editor and reader positions. And you should definitely keep an eye out later this month for Issue 13: Trans Eco Horror, which will feature six new terrifying stories by Anemone, Cody Sooy, Crystal Odelle, Fariha, Jackie Vondross, and T.R. Steele, each of which features a custom pseudo book cover designed by a different trans artist. The full issue publishes online March 16.

I’m also excited to announce a new partnership between smoke and mold and Brooklyn-based Genspace in the form of a sponsored residency in Bioarts! A brief overview is below, but definitely check out the site and the work they do. Applications are due March 20:

smoke and mold, a literary journal invested in the narrative possibilities that trans lives bring to our changing nature-culture, is partnering with Genspace to sponsor one 2026 Genspace residency for a trans, nonbinary, or Two-Spirit artist. smoke and mold recognizes trans, nonbinary, and Two-Spirit artists, especially those holding multiply-marginalized identities, have historically faced significant barriers to accessing institutional opportunities in the arts and sciences. The BioArts are a particularly potent field in which to explore, experiment, and explode categories heretofore rigidly defined under Western science, including but not limited to gender, sexuality, corporeality and individuality. Preference will be given to an artist who can speak to how their work addresses this broader cultural aspect of the BioArts.

Lastly, my husband, the musician known as Gregory James McKillop/RUUNE/Bentabia Beacon Bezalel, continues to be a shining light in my life and to most who encounter them. I mean, I can’t really think of anyone off the top of my head for whom that isn’t the case, but we all have haters, right? It’s important to have haters, I think. It’s a sign that you’re not capitulating too much, and that you’re unafraid to speak your mind based in your conscience as opposed to what gets you the most views/listens.

<3 stay mad, everyone <3