ScholarWorks @ SeattleU (Seattle University)

Scott, Tristan

Seattle University 
ScholarWorks @ SeattleU 
The Spectator Online Newspapers 
2-5-2025 
2025-02-05 Molly Jae Vaughan Presents A Sobering Portrayal of 
Transgender Identity 
Tristan Scott 
Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/spectator-online 
The Spectator • February 5, 2025 • https://seattlespectator.com/2025/02/05/molly-jae-vaughan-
presents-a-sobering-portrayal-of-transgender-identity/
Molly Jae Vaughan Presents A
Sobering Portrayal of
Transgender Identity
Tristan Scott, Staff Reporter
Content notice: This article contains discussion of violence
and discrimination against transgender people.
A row of tall, colorful flags face outward onto 12th Ave.
through the windows of Seattle University’s Hedreen
Gallery. These flags, the text printed on one window
explains, are the first piece of artist Molly Jae Vaughan’s
exhibit “Transition as Performance, Life as Resistance.”
Each flag honors the life of a transgender person who has
been murdered in the United States since 2012. 
Once inside the gallery, the natural light is dulled by the
flags blocking the windows. The lack of visibility places the
viewer in a sort of limbo, removing the distractions of the
outside world and allowing for total focus on the art.
Vaughan uses a wide variety of mediums including
sculpture, photography, and painting to explore what it
means to be transgender in a country becoming
increasingly hostile towards the trans community.
The exhibit opened Jan. 15, only five days before President Donald
Trump was inaugurated. Since taking office, Trump has signed a
flood of executive orders directly targeting the transgender
community. This aspect of the current political agenda in America
makes Vaughan’s work more relevant than ever, as well as more
controversial.
“We’ve all kind of been prepared for a negative reaction,” Gallery
Attendant and Fourth-year Business Major Frankie Hampson said,
gesturing to a slip of paper with Seattle U Public Safety’s
emergency number taped to the front desk for easy access. “The
artist prioritized our safety above the art. She said, ‘I don’t care if it
gets destroyed, I can literally repaint it as long as you guys are safe.’”
Sasha Volovnikov
Left to right, Molly Jae Vaughan’s The Realization of Transexual
Dreams, 2024-2025; The Body She Never Wanted, 2022; Lying in
the Bed of my Divorce, 2020, Fixing my Suit, 2019 on display at
the Hedreen Gallery.
Left to right, Molly Jae Vaughan’s T4T Intimacy #3,
2024; Silicone Joy, 2024; My Transexual Vagina
(Recovery #1) on display at the Hedreen Gallery.
(Sasha Volovnikov)
Much of the work shown in the gallery serves as a direct response to
anti-transgender legislation that has been proposed for years.
Projected on the back wall of the gallery is a video of Vaughan’s
performance piece, “Atonement for Imaginary Sins.” In it, the artist
stands in front of the Capitol Building and flogs herself repeatedly
with a tool resembling the American flag. The sound of leather
striking flesh echoes through the otherwise silent gallery. 
“It was emotionally raw and absolutely devastating to see,” First-year
Forensic Psychology Major Courtnie Wilson said. “The exhibit was
beautiful and incredibly politically forward, which I thought was
amazing.”
While many of Vaughan’s pieces address hate and violence, others
express the joy and beauty that come with the process of
transitioning. This duality captures the reality of trans existence as
something complex and personal. One such piece is a series of
polaroids that line the walls, capturing the intimate details of
Vaughan’s medical transition. “The Brutality of Change: Photographic documentation of transexual technology,” catalogs, in graphic
detail, each stage of the artist’s vaginoplasty and other gender affirming surgeries. Several pieces throughout the gallery depict
Vaughan in the nude, showcasing the comfort in her body that transitioning has brought her.
“I really like the Polaroids. I think those are really impactful. I think the whole exhibit is [impactful], but seeing the actual progression
of her transition is very powerful,” Hadley Plett, a gallery assistant and third-year photography major said.
While gallery assistants were prepared for the worst, the reactions they’ve seen from viewers have been primarily positive. This
relief, though fragile, speaks to the community that Seattle U and the Hedreen Gallery seek to create.
“The reaction hasn’t been anything bad, which has been fantastic,”
Hampson said. “I’m sure with Art Walk coming up next Thursday, if
I’m going to see anything, it’ll be then. But so far everybody that’s
come has really loved it and not taken it in any negative way.”
The gallery is also representative of Seattle U’s dedication to
supporting transgender students, shown not only through words
but through actions. A recent example of this commitment can be
seen in an email sent to Seattle U’s students and staff Jan. 28, in
which President Eduardo Peñalver announced that ROTC
scholarships given to transgender students would be honored
despite a recent executive order barring them from serving in the
military.
“People who have come in have been shocked, sort of, that Seattle
U as a Jesuit university has put on a show like this,” Plett said. “But I
think it shows how much we value queer culture within the school.”
Molly Jae Vaughan’s “Transition as Performance, Life as Resistance” can be viewed for free at Seattle U’s Hedreen Gallery until
March 29. 
Girl Juice, 2024 by Molly Jae Vaughan features
estrogen needles collected in used juice containers.
(Sasha Volovnikov)
The Hedreen Gallery displays a dress used in Molly Jae
Vaughan’s 2022 installation and performance Safety in
Numbers. (Sasha Volovnikov)


English

2025-02-05 Molly Jae Vaughan Presents A Sobering Portrayal of Transgender Identity

Editors of The Spectator

Spectator 2025-02-27

Spectator 2025-03-13

Pazen, Michae

Fragments 
Volume 62 Interlude Article 17 
2020 
Decisions 
Michae Pazen 
Seattle University 
Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments 
Recommended Citation 
Pazen, Michae (2020) "Decisions," Fragments: Vol. 62, Article 17. 
Available at: https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments/vol62/iss1/17 
This Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by ScholarWorks @ SeattleU. It has been accepted for 
inclusion in Fragments by an authorized editor of ScholarWorks @ SeattleU. 
1 
 
Decisions 
Michael Pazen 
 
 
 
As we 
drift apart     come together 
we continue     we cease     we begin 
to embrace     to withhold     to laugh at     to smile over 
our mishaps     our misadventures     the mistakes we made     our choices 
as they remain in     as they destroy     as they create     as they impact 
our past,         our future,         our present, 
illuminated by     overshadowed by 
our love 
 
1
Pazen: Decisions
Published by ScholarWorks @ SeattleU, 2020


Decisions

Golden, Eleanor

Fragments 
Volume 64 Emergence Article 13 
2022 
Double Need 
Eleanor Golden 
Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments 
Recommended Citation 
Golden, Eleanor (2022) "Double Need," Fragments: Vol. 64, Article 13. 
Available at: https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments/vol64/iss1/13 
This Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by ScholarWorks @ SeattleU. It has been accepted for 
inclusion in Fragments by an authorized editor of ScholarWorks @ SeattleU. 
d o u b l e    n e e d 
 
 
the irrelevant thing is 
i used to play 
the oboe 
 
the indescribable thing is 
connecting body to object in calloused hands 
bring the double reed to my lips 
b l o w 
 
the irreplaceable thing: 
there is nothing beautiful about the oboe 
 
 
bodily obsession 
fractured fingertips scatter disjointed up crackling keys 
rattle foundation under our bare feet 
 
 
 
the baroque period is a playful broad. she's got heavy hair pinned in 
victory rolls atop her head. pleated sleeves drag along her slick 
marble banister. she likes chivalry, spontaneity, orange scones with 
sweet tea. dislikes: lace collars, swan songs, piano. 
 
 
 
have you ever heard me play  
the oboe? 
no one here has heard me 
play the oboe 
 
i let it sit closeted, collecting bitter dust 
time is wearing my expensive embouchure  
into a loose lipped grimace 
 
anyone who says the oboe isn't the most tiring hobby is lying, 
i grumble 
squatted in little plastic chairs laid out by the overactive parents on squeaky gym floor 
 
 
1
Golden: Double Need
Published by ScholarWorks @ SeattleU, 2022
the classical period goes for sweeping sunlit walks, writing poetry 
along the lake shore. she could write symphonies about the horizon 
kissing the shore's temple—if she could still read music. cardigans, 
round glasses, ink-spit palms. her true friends know she's the party, 
but no one else gives her the light of day. what a shame, they think. 
 
 
on the bus, i listen to famous oboists whose names  
i don't remember 
do you even know all the oboists 
whose names i don't know? 
 
i stare out, pain-gutted, through fingerprint-stained windowpanes 
glaring at the rain-lit city 
my oboe case is always at my feet  
 
the oboe is a bureaucracy 
steel ladder 
hanging noose 
and i hate to be told what to do. the oboe 
an infestation of infantile needs 
patience, persistence, poise 
 
above all else, 
the oboe takes time 
 
 
 
i've changed my mind: 
there's everything beautiful about the oboe 
an ethereal beam through smog paintings 
single tear into the glossy lake 
sunset glittering periwinkle behind the ocean's lungs 
 
 
i play the audience down 
summoning enough wind to scatter the treetops 
rattle their pearls 
tip their hats 
flutter their summer night fans 
 
 
the romantic period whispers over the clutched karaoke mic, 
ensnaring her audience into her tremolo tremble. she wears 
clickingclacking heels, sips a strong bourbon between ringed fingers. 
2
Fragments, Vol. 64 [2022], Art. 13
https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments/vol64/iss1/13
over her nightly happy hour, she admits she's too flighty for love. 
"just won't be satisfied," she shrugs. 
 
 
i find myself drawn to lit candles, bent tarot cards 
purple rugs under curled toes 
mugs of sharp tea, iridescent bongs, shattered notebooks 
 
 
there's always been 
M A G I C  
at my fingertips 
 
tasting colors 
feeling smells 
underneath my scarred fingertips 
so much more now 
 
where has the music gone 
 
 
the oboe is the lay-it-all-on-the-table poker instrument of emotional expression. it is the dagger 
digging through organ mazes. it is the dying kiss of requited lovers. the miss you until i forget the 
sound of your laugh along train station marble. the bullet ray of sunshine scalding in the eye of the 
hurricane. the battle cry of a woman on the nursery floor.  
 
 
 
the irredeemable thing is 
i can't play the oboe forever 
there's too much to give and i'd just 
keep giving 
3
Golden: Double Need
Published by ScholarWorks @ SeattleU, 2022


Double Need

Kelly-Jervis, Lily

Fragments 
Volume 64 Emergence Article 17 
2022 
Find a Penny / Pick It Up 
Lily Kelly-Jervis 
Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments 
Recommended Citation 
Kelly-Jervis, Lily (2022) "Find a Penny / Pick It Up," Fragments: Vol. 64, Article 17. 
Available at: https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments/vol64/iss1/17 
This Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by ScholarWorks @ SeattleU. It has been accepted for 
inclusion in Fragments by an authorized editor of ScholarWorks @ SeattleU. 
Malu 
 
in the malu 
of the mahina 
shadows 
 
in your malu 
in your body’s view 
 
a womb inside a womb inside a womb’s heart 
uncovers the malu of your hidden scars 
 
disturbing the heavens 
your art    
 tears apart   
heavenly silence   
trailing   
running 
 
reaching   
living       
 
between your 
‘umalu 
and you 
  
1
Kelly-Jervis: Find a Penny / Pick It Up
Published by ScholarWorks @ SeattleU, 2022
tails 
or heads 
Find a Penny/Pick it Up 
 
find a penny 
 pick it up 
  put it in your mouth 
       and suck 
all day long  
you’ll have [bad] luck 
   
 
            it doesn’t matter 
    your blood will still p 
        o 
            u 
                r 
        lo͞oziNG 
           iron 
      bleeding 
          air 
       leaking 
        cries 
          iRONically 
suffocating 
on the face of 
your maiden name 
who wouldn’t watch  
this amazing race 
handed down pennies 
reach down your throat 
hand you your heart 
pumping out blood  
in the fist of honest abe 
tarnishing the zincoln 
name 
 
2
Fragments, Vol. 64 [2022], Art. 17
https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments/vol64/iss1/17


Find a Penny / Pick It Up

Zeve, Amelia

Fragments 
Volume 63 Pivot Article 2 
2021 
Quarantine 
Amelia Zeve 
Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments 
Recommended Citation 
Zeve, Amelia (2021) "Quarantine," Fragments: Vol. 63, Article 2. 
Available at: https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments/vol63/iss1/2 
This Prose is brought to you for free and open access by ScholarWorks @ SeattleU. It has been accepted for 
inclusion in Fragments by an authorized editor of ScholarWorks @ SeattleU. 
Quarantine
Amelia Zeve
This is the part of quarantine where nobody is leaving. It’s a March that feels like
December— deep ruts of fog spilling across the valley, and the trees all stand naked, caught like
confused specters in the daylight. Here, I walk the property line with the dogs as the dusk fuses
to darkness. It is still too cold for frogs, and I listen to the quiet, wondering about what comes
next. Last week I was standing in a club in Seattle, nudging a twisted can of soda as it skittered
across the dirtied tile of the bathroom floor. Last week I sat in my afternoon class, staring out at
the winter sun as it caught on the Admin lawn at 3pm, fragmenting on the buildings, skipping
across Elliot Bay and West Seattle before sliding behind the Olympics. Today I am in my
childhood home, a strange intermission. The dusk chill settles into the parts of my neck that are
unprotected by layers, and I let it.
This is the part of quarantine where nobody is leaving. I start to jog the road my house
sits on once, twice a day. There’s no denying it: it’s ugly. The parkway pushes past the rural parts
of Ashland and eventually becomes Main Street, but I run it where it’s still peppered with farms,
where broad stretches of sky reveal mountains on both sides, where construction plots bloom like
flowers. I watch a unit of micro-housing go from bones to structures to homes, people moving
inside them like bees. I know this street intimately by the time I move back up to Seattle. Several
times, on accident, I open my phone camera and take photos when I think I am turning up my
music, creating a surreal collage of movement and the way a space transforms at different points
1
Zeve: Quarantine
Published by ScholarWorks @ SeattleU, 2021
during the day. I can’t bring myself to delete them. Contained within their canted angle is such a
surprising memory of peace, I can’t part with it.
This is the part of quarantine where nobody is leaving. I watch the field outside my
window go from late winter crocuses to plum blossoms to rhododendrons, measure the days that
pass by how long my cat naps in the sunbeam on the concrete, notice how my layers get fewer
and fewer until suddenly I am not wearing any at all. I have never observed time move in a way
like this. It feels like the science we did in middle school, making a glue of cornstarch and
water— if I press it too hard it is still, unmoving, breaking under my fingers where I push up
against it. But if I let it sit in my hands it falls through my fingers like water, coming down in
soft, fat drops, shimmering in the bowl when I move it.
This is the part of quarantine where nobody is leaving. There is another road I like to
jog— my family has been walking it since I was young, and although the street has a name,
we’ve always called it Gun Club because of its proximity to a shooting range. The road is four
miles set between wineries, mansions, farms, and mounds of dirt with targets in front of them.
The juxtaposition is jarring, but only if you’ve never seen it before. From here I watch
mustard-colored flowers bloom from the roadside, watch poppies in shades of purple and pink
and orange and red flare up from the ditch beside the road. I run this route in the hours before
sunset, my shadow stretching long like a sentinel beside me, the cows all turning their heads to
watch me as I slowly move past. Even with the constant gunfire it’s my footfall that they notice.
You will get used to anything eventually.
This is the part  before ‘quarantine’ has entered our vocabulary, the day before I move
back to Oregon, the day before it ends (or begins.) I stand on a street in Seattle and everyone
moves around me, on bikes and on foot and in car and in their own world, no masks. The sun
2
Fragments, Vol. 63 [2021], Art. 2
https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments/vol63/iss1/2
pushes down on a bluebird late February day, and although the air is cold, there is a misplaced
warmth to it. I stand in the street, the only thing still in a web of things that are moving, and
wonder if the day will hold some special significance later on. (It will.)
3
Zeve: Quarantine
Published by ScholarWorks @ SeattleU, 2021


Quarantine

Voloshin, Edward

Fragments 
Volume 63 Pivot Article 23 
2021 
Epigrams 
Edward Voloshin 
Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments 
Recommended Citation 
Voloshin, Edward (2021) "Epigrams," Fragments: Vol. 63, Article 23. 
Available at: https://scholarworks.seattleu.edu/fragments/vol63/iss1/23 
This Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by ScholarWorks @ SeattleU. It has been accepted for 
inclusion in Fragments by an authorized editor of ScholarWorks @ SeattleU. 
EPIGRAMS 
Edward Voloshin 
 
 
 
Coffee is for the weak and weary-eyed, 
 
To drink it is to trade freedom for warmth. 
 
Water is the drink of kings, 
 
Coffee is aid for slaves. 
 
 
 
Only a fool pays for the privilege of drinking dirt, 
 
The wise man drinks water, pure and free. 
 
 
 
No tomato, no pickle, 
 
says the coward. 
 
I'll have it as-is, 
 
says one less fickle. 
 
 
 
A book's worth is in words, 
 
Not in their weight, but their smell. 
1
Voloshin: Epigrams
Published by ScholarWorks @ SeattleU, 2021


Epigrams

Cruz, Jessica

Delgado, Adrianna

Ebreo, Azria

Le, Janette

Pondon, Mae Ann

Rodriguez, Jessica

Xayavong-Gibson, Kaiya

Universal Health Coverage: Costs and Health Outcomes

Editors of the Spectator

Spectator 2024-10-31

Seattle University

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