Photo by Aidan Romick

Not Mad

The Third Annual Not Mad Big List of Shit

By Not Mad

If you've read our first two lists, you'll know that there is absolutely no method to our madness: the List is simply a bunch of shit that we loved and freaked out about this year, in no understandable order, and most likely will not resemble any end-of-the-year recap you've already read. Each year the List gets bigger, and this year is no different. In addition to Rio and myself, 13 Not Mad contributors provided their takes on the happenings of this wild year. So as we turn the corner into 2017, escape your family function, pour one out for Prince and dive into The Third Annual Big List of Shit.

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Change, Perspective

I Am Frightened

by Jackson Howard

I woke up this morning, painfully hung-over from three too many Irish whiskeys and four hours of sleep, and as I forced my body out of bed, I carefully, methodically and despondently — like when you remove a splinter from your foot and examine it pinched between the tweezers, wondering how something so small could cause such pain — questioned the very nature of my reality. I wish I had an answer for the questions echoing in our heads but I don’t. I truly don’t. Instead I shuffled through the Brooklyn rain, into a train full of grey faces and puffy eyes and broken pride and climbed the stairs with legs like lead into Manhattan, where some small part of me expected it to be sunny, but of course it was still raining, because it is Wednesday November 9, 2016, and Donald Trump is going to be our 45th president.

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Culture, Perspective

Across the Bay: Navigating Post-Grad Gentrification

by Alastair Boone, Photo by

As a result, West Oakland occupies a patchy transition. Many of the houses we found on Craigslist are large and lined with flowers (“the gardener costs $200 a month unless you’re willing to care for the roses yourself”). But when compared to their surroundings, these homes look painfully new — aggressive strongholds of the future amongst the long surviving past. None come without a tall metal fence, and as we pull up outside for showings, neighbors sitting on their porches stare. Four white women in a lime green Camry. Can you blame them? In school, we talked about food deserts and white flight and the harmful effects of gentrification on low-income East Bay residents. We did not talk about what to do or how to behave when you find that you may be part of the problem.

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