The WASP vol. 4:
War-gasmic Star-ggle for Love
What is love? (Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more.) Every single day, single people try to discover what this single most absurd myth ever invented by mankind means. Love, this tricky non-concept, mercilessly divides people into haves and have-nots, and the former rub their love into the latter’s faces. The 60s’ famous “make love, not war” recommendation made some believe that love can be made. Can it? If it is such a DIY product, where and what are the instructions to make it? Perhaps this lack of straightforward step-by-step directions prompted Americans to focus on the more comprehensible part of the slogan: war. More tangible, more common, more lasting. Yet, the two have a lot in common. A lot being, precisely, men. Men wage wars, men make love… pain-in-the-ass difficult. Coincidence? I think not. If women managed to get rid of men altogether, finding love would be much easier. A project to consider, just saying.
Living in the 21st century means that some place, “near, far, wherever you are,” there is a war which influences, be it directly or indirectly, your life. Media coverage tries to make the distance disappear, spreading terror and fear, helping you believe and remember that in that galaxy far, far, away, there is someone dying for someone’s thirst for blood and power. America as a nation which glorifies its soldiers fighting bad guys in some remote exotic countries with sand in their shoes and mission in their hearts, elevates killing and legitimizes lack of consciousness. The “us/US vs. them” mentality has long before justified imperialist drive, yet it also alters people’s perception of their relationship to one another. Women vs. men, black vs. white, normal vs. deviant, etc., one is always in opposition to something or someone else. And that is reassuring. Recognizing one’s place in the hierarchy demands that little one to perceive everything as the Other, trying to establish one’s identity.
Identity which is molded to match the expectations, which often are constructed by celebrities, who are the porte-paroles for the perfection. Perfection which speaks to us from the movies we go to, news we watch, online magazines we read. Perfection which inspires, perfection which distorts. The ideal image which has its roots in fantasy, finds its way to the minds of many, and manages to do so through media. You might ask ‘what for?’ And the answer is, as always, for love. Love for oneself, love for two-or-more-selves, or any self that we find suitable. Love for recognition which is always (un)consciously in the center of every endeavor. In this issue we terrorize you with our starry love, and in the basement of American Studies Center we make this mystical love to you. Love, which is sweet like fruit from the fig tree. The tree from which we holler to you and call you to arms. For the uncertainty that life brings, may the love be with you.