A Word from the Editor

The managers of Lunch Ticket all agreed that issue 26 needed to have a theme, and that theme had a responsibility to call for work relating to what we are seeing in society. We wanted a theme that resonated with Antioch University MFA’s mission of advancing “racial, social, economic, disability, gender, and environmental justice,” and we felt it was time to take a stand, to let others know our thoughts and feelings on today’s state of affairs, that we stand in community with those fighting against the various systems of oppression and those demanding an immediate and permanent ceasefire in Gaza.

The safety of bodies, especially  those with less protection like disabled bodies, trans bodies, and Black and brown bodies, isn’t a priority with the new administration stepping in next year. In fact, their goal is to dismantle any and all protective laws, and it’s already happening. Look at Roe v. Wade. Look at the book bans. Look at gun control laws. Bodies will only find protection if we continue to show up in our resistance, for ourselves and for each other, refusing to let people in power eradicate our rights. Only then do we find liberation.

Because the body is political.

Throughout my adolescence, doctors shushed me into compliance as I begged for help for my debilitating menstrual cramps. Instead, they fed me birth control pills, and when those failed to curb the stabbing pains in my lower abdomen, they prescribed a different brand of pill. The doctors’ response to my pain implied that my body wasn’t of value, that it didn’t matter. And for a number of years, I believed them. Why wouldn’t I? They were professionals in the medical field. So I trusted them, thinking that if there was truly anything wrong with my body, they’d fix it.

In my 20s, while working as a paper press assistant, I had a manager who suffered from something called “endometriosis.” She described symptoms very similar to mine. From that point on, whenever I’d visit the doctor, I’d say to them, “I think I have endometriosis,” but still, nothing changed. Years of gaslighting took its toll on me before I decided to take matters into my own hands. I felt like it was time I did my own research, and with the rise of Instagram reels, I learned even more about endometriosis from a number of people who actually had it.

Finally, in my early 30s, after years of missing out on life because I was in bed hugging a heating pad, or squinching my eyes closed to assuage the dizziness, or trying not to vomit from pain no doctor believed, I finally received a diagnosis of polycystic ovary syndrome, or PCOS. I remember tears welling in my eyes as I thanked this new doctor; she saw me. While PCOS certainly explained specific symptoms, like excessive weight gain and irregular periods, it didn’t explain my cramps. We discussed the likelihood of my having endometriosis, and that I would need to continue searching for answers, but receiving the PCOS diagnosis was a major win.

A few years later, I was finally diagnosed with endometriosis. It took talking back to doctors, and a couple of surgeries, but I got there. My hysterectomy and excision surgery are scheduled in mid February of 2025. Through perseverance, advocacy, and asking a ton of questions, I’m that much closer to the other side of this affliction.

This brings me back to resistance and liberation, and how this issue’s theme was born—in our personal lives, in our collective lives, in our own bodies, we must show up to the fight, advocate for ourselves, and others, and take whatever wins we can to survive.

Stay curious. Stay bold. Don’t give up. The body is political. Everything’s political.

With love,

Jess