In many Asian cultures, people (most commonly women, in our experience) wear these jade bangles — and generally, never take them off. They're said to bring good luck and protect their wearer. The jade is said to develop a deeper, richer colour after years on one's (usually non-dominant) wrist. If it breaks, it's done its job to protect you. You can attach clasps to the pieces if you'd like to wear it again.
We're... a little conflicted on this tradition.
On one hand (pun intended) it would help us connect to our heritage — though we don't always feel Asian enough to do so in the first place. The simple-yet-elegant bracelets pair well with most outfits. Jade is very hard and therefore durable. It doesn't set off metal detectors, either.
But there's these deep connotations of family and eternity that — as an abused traumagenic system — make us feel... kind of weird.
More often than not, bangles are a gift from your parents — sometimes even family heirlooms passed on for generations. Not only would wearing one be a lifelong commitment (which not everyone in our system will be able to tolerate), it would be a constant reminder of our family and how they've hurt us.
We'll come of age soon. We are plural in such a way that we've never known permanence. If or when our parents gave us one, would it feel like a gift or a shackle? Could we buy one for ourselves instead? To mark how we belong to ourselves-- to our system?
In this drawing, the clasp represents the Anglosphere side of us: the focus on individualism and development; our desire for freedom. It features our own doodles as carvings. In contrast, the jade part represents our Asian side and the cultural norms attached. Loyalty and tradition, usually associated with family, have been recontextualised to fit systemhood instead.
Something broken has now been repaired. You can clearly see how it's been fixed; the creativity of visible mending. Yes, the bracelet could've been replaced — or repaired in a way where no one could tell it was broken in the first place — but isn't it nice to know that beauty can come from the damaged? That you can emerge from the muck you grew in and bloom?
And sure, the bracelet's not permanent anymore, but... maybe that's for the better. Maybe it means we get to choose who we want to be.
The green circle is a reference to how the green circle in the plural rings represents adaptive systems. The symbol (according to Wikitionary) has not one meaning, but multiple. All reflect how we see ourselves: strange but wonderful, like a rare and precious gem.
Finally, the phrase "Are there words for what we are" refers to how few Asian systems we've seen and us wondering if there are plural terms in our second language.
Our school has a subject centred around finding oneself. It does not account for those who have multiple.
The background is full of doodles, symbolising a lack of focus in class. Individually, they represent members or certain aspects of our system.
I made an actual Google Form and took screenshots for realism. It asks you to define yourself in a single word, but we answer "story" because a story is a collection of multiple words.
Edit: Did some digging and we actually did have to do a task like this! We got three words, though. I forgot what we wrote 😅
Similar to the submission for day 2, the colours blurring in our body represent blurriness in our mind. You may also notice said colours are picked from the plural flag. 😉
The gold outlines on the vertical panel represent me (as a shell; a member whom other members front "within"). The cracks are a reference to kintsugi; the different colours represent other system members blurring together.
Those square things in the other two are made to look like both computer windows and thought or speech bubbles. I wanted them to overlap with the body as a way of showing their influence.
Tried out a new artstyle while procrastinating on our piles of homework.
Something about how one of our headmates is set up to prevent another headmate from voicing her theories. Not able to elaborate much so far, as the effect is global — we lose the words to talk about our experiences, our mouth feels harder to open/control, and word choice becomes clinical and inexpressive.
"History repeats like a hall full of mirrors. Grow gold and flowers in the cracks. You lost your mind and found it."
We have memory loss due to our trauma, but because our situation at home is beginning to improve, sometimes things will come back in flashes. Like flashbacks, but positive.
If I had to explain dissociative amnesia to someone unfamilar with it, I'd say it's like locking a folder on your laptop and forgetting the password. The memories are still there, you just don't have access.
For better or for worse, a lot of our childhood was spent online. While we won't get into our unrestricted-Internet-access trauma here, we're glad to have grown up with the media we did (even if some of it is "cringe".)
Depicted: a diary page, old MacOS wallpaper, neon glowstick bracelets, Royale High (Roblox game), scene from Spirited Away, various plastic beads and trinkets.
The number in the top right corner (300.15) is the DSM-5 diagnostic code for other specified dissociative disorder.
ASCII art is recycled from assets used in a previous animation.
Really not sure how I feel about the storyboarding (or lack thereof) for this one, but I wanted to get something out on time so I can catch up on the other submissions.
The next two entries (Mirror and Expression) have been delayed for the following reasons:
I am so very tired (eepy, even)
School 😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔
animation is stupid and I hate it yet I am so full of hubris that Icarus himself is dragging me away from the sun for my own safety as if I am a moth to a lamp
Delays may be anywhere from a day to a week. Here's a behind-the-scenes screenshot for Mirror, as compensation:
Additionally, we probably won't complete all the prompts like we originally planned. Expect to see more writing than drawing as our energy lowers.
