Jubilee Nevels (She/Her)

Shining Light on Perspective: A Story From The POV of a Lighting Fixture

Posted by Jubilee Nevels (She/Her) on

My burn is incandescent, blue against the skin of those who venture under my glow. I see many things with my light. The dirty—sometimes clean, doesn’t last long— half bathroom with no windows is my home. I share my home with others, but reside above all occupants. Beneath me, Sink, Mirror, and Toilet. They have their jobs, I have mine, but theirs does not take place without my presence. 

There is also Ornate Hand Soap Dispenser, who has seen more that any of us. I ask her about Blonde Hair Far, Blonde Hair Close, and Blonde Hair Closest, who occasionally venture beneath my light. Why are they not tethered to the wall, like us? What do they see when they roam outside of my domain? “You’re an object,” Ornate Hand Soap Dispenser tries to tell me, “Our purpose is for their use and that’s it.” I don’t get it, but it seems that Toilet has accepted his fate. 

Sometimes there’s also Brown Hair Close, who comes to my domain and uses Sink and Ornate Hand Soap Dispenser before making a hasty exit. “He needs to learn to keep it in his pants,” Ornate Hand Soap Dispenser mutters, but I have no idea what she means by that either. 

One day Blonde Hair Close comes in. She doesn’t use my light, but she does use Toilet in a strange manner, being lower than Blonde Hair Far. She looks up and I can see her face. She dispenses water, like Sink. I question Ornate Hand Soap Dispenser, who mutters something about there being a new Blond Hair Far. 

The burn of my light goes out a few weeks later, proven when Blonde Hair Far wiggles Switch. Switch has been here as long as me, and I often ask him about our connection, but he doesn’t like to answer me. Blonde Hair Far comes in and takes Ornate Hand Dispenser, who wishes the rest of us luck. I am scared. Without my light, and without Ornate Hand Dispenser’s wisdom, the half bathroom is kind of eerie. I become worried when Blonde Hairs stop coming in completely. Is it because of me, because I cannot make light? 

Switch notices that I am anxious and speaks up, “It’s not you. The power is off. And them? They’re not going to come back. But there will be more, don’t worry.” Switch turns out to be right. Soon half bathroom is cleaned by new wanderers (Skull Cap Giants, Bare Brown Head), and I am illuminated again by Box Braid Black, who refers to me as Beautiful Victorian Flush-Mount.

The Grounds on Which We Play

Posted by Jubilee Nevels (She/Her) on

In the summertime, the park down at Washburn was where all the neighborhood kids spent their time. It was this huge field that was covered in dirt, mostly bare save for the various patches of ugly grass and a small area of worn and dilapidated playground equipment. 

The equipment featured at this park was iconic to most of the other parks in Detroit as well. There was a jungle gym arch that only the older kids were capable of climbing. There were also stairs leading up to a few slides, one of them being long, flat and made of metal that grew heated in the sun and burned you if you touched it. 

The other slide was plastic and cylindrical. The outside was bright yellow and covered in graffiti.  The inside was covered in urine, usually from a kid who didn’t want to make the trek all the way home and back. If for some reason you forgot, or if you just braved the scent or were pushed down by your friends, then on the way down you were shocked from the static electricity that was built up on the inside. 

Given that the playground was in such poor shape and we didn’t want to subject ourselves to being burned or shocked, we usually found ourselves playing in the field. It was large enough to ride our bikes or play football, but it held various dangers within the area, such as broken glass or weed burrs.

The danger I remember most vividly was nestled in the fence. A beehive, about five inches going either way. It had been there for as long as we had known the park. But then one day the neighborhood kids thought it would be a good idea to disturb the locals. 

I pulled up on my hot pink bicycle, wondering what was going on. Why were all of these kids gathered around the fence? By the time I figured out what was going on, it was too late. What followed was one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever witnessed. Some idiot knocked the hive down with a rock. I don’t remember seeing the bees leave the hive, but I do remember the sound they made. It was an aggressive and horrifying buzzing noise that followed behind me even after I took off on my bike. I had never pedaled that fast before, had never traveled as many blocks as I did that day. 

I never went back to that park, and I was glad when we moved away. Some kid told me bees remember faces.

Setting The Difficulty: Women in Gaming

Posted by Jubilee Nevels (She/Her) on

Last semester I ventured off my degree course and took a few elective classes that caught my interest. They were game development courses, which is something I’ve always been interested in but thought wouldn’t hold up career wise. Throughout my time in those classes, I was presented with the fact that there were very few women in the video game industry, and we were given assignments for having various forms of inclusivity in our games. 

I was deeply inspired by this course and its reference materials, as part of my free time is spent playing video games. If there’s anything I learned from that experience, it’s that a lot of men think that women are a plague if they engage in activities that are predominantly male occupied. Esports is such an environment, and it has never been known for being welcoming. 

I came across a tiktok by username @kristabyte where she described this research study done by Argentina, in which three of the top male players of the country disguised their voices as women in a Valorant lobby. The results did not surprise me. The players were called hurtful slurs and “trolled for playing a man’s game”. This directly affected their ability to play the game, and their scores became embarrassingly bad when just before they had been topping the scoreboards. 

The results did not surprise me because of how relatable it was. I have often found myself being subjected to ridicule for simply daring to talk on a game mic as a woman. The alternative to rudeness is being prompted to share Instagram details midgame. I don’t have Instagram, but I do have a diamond support rank, which people often assume I got carried into. Having your mic turned off in the higher ranks prompts your team to say you’re throwing the game, as communication is vital in team based Esports. Being told to go back to the kitchen, having my weight or the details of my love life assumed from merely doing a vocal callout, it’s something I was happy to see finally being exposed and talked about.

I posted the video to a gaming group on social media and the resulting discussion was one I’d rather not have had. Even presented with the study, some guys refused to acknowledge that the sexes didn’t have the same opportunities to climb in ranks in the game. It’s one hundred percent skill based, they’d claim, you just suck. I begged to differ, as did a few other women present in the group. I decided to leave the group after that, and found a female-only one to share similar experiences with like minded people. 

However, I don’t think the separation of sexes in Esports is the answer. I believe more exposure to the minority is needed. Once women are sitting next to the guys on the big screen tvs at Esports competitions, once game franchises are owned and run by women and hit games are created by women, once everyone sees that we can coexist, that’s when gaming will be fun for everyone like games are supposed to be. It’s also when I’ll stop having excuses for playing badly. 

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