Words: Joshua M. Jenkins (@callmefag) Photos: Nicky Nylon (@nicky.nylon) You saw her on the news during her spat with Russell Crowe (pun intended). You read, in disbelief, her tweets showing support for President Cheeto during the election. Hell, some of you are showing her your bootyholes for free ass-bleaching soap. Whether you love her or hate her, Azealia Banks is a force to be reckoned with. She is simultaneously one of the most frustrating, talented, and outspoken arti

Words and photographs by Joshua Michael Jenkins One of the most difficult things for me to do in this short life is to respect, honor, or aide people who: 1) have hatred toward ideologies or people they don't understand, and 2) use that hatred to physically or emotionally attack others. (Obviously, the exception to this is people who think staying silent toward nazis or white supremacists is okay. It isn't.) Don't get me wrong – I advocate, 100%, for basic human rights for al

Ahh, April. In Chicago, wave two of seasonal depression has set in and we're all looking at each other with dead eyes thinking, "why the fuck do I still live here?" While the West Coast basks in Beychella, we're still wrapped up in bed under blankets and cookie wrappers with a packed bowl in one hand and our iPad (streaming a video of Beychella) in the other. Despite the excruciating wait for 50+ degree weather and the vitamin d bukkake we're all dying for, Chicagoans stay up

Successfully blending humility, queerness, and religion within a world obsessed with selfie-lighting and condemnation isn’t an easy feat, but transgender rapper KC Ortiz manages to do so effortlessly in her debut video for “Shut Up”, off her latest album Church Tapes. Directed by Vincent Martell of VAM, KC starts her confession with an homage to Chicago nightlife, shouting out two industry friends well-respected in Boystown (Chicago's gay district). Drenched in imagery of pre

Concept + Photography: Joshua M. Jenkins Editor's note: Throughout my adolescence, tiptoeing around racial slurs and dodging homophobic jabs became as typical as a morning bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. My body-type, however, always slim and lean, was never the subject of much criticism. Well, an occasional, "boy, eat something!" was sometimes muttered, but our society's beauty standards still held me at a higher standard than someone who was, for example, overweight. (Big ladie