The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com b-side Thursday, April 5, 2018 — 5B In a culture centered around appearance, the fashion and modeling industry holds a huge weight in today’s society. Amid unrealistic body expectations, name brands and distorted representations, it is easy to get wrapped up in the downfalls of this materialistic business. With such an emphasis on aesthetics and looks, a great amount of room for error and false representation comes into play in the world of fashion and modeling. I love fashion as much as the next person, but among the love and lust, a fair amount of mistakes, misinterpretations and just straight-up misconducts go unnoticed. In 2015, Interview Magazine released their winter cover, which pictured none other than Kylie Jenner posing in a wheelchair. Jenner and Interview’s motive for the shoot caused an explosion of comments within and beyond the disability community. One woman’s response to the photoshoot managed to spark an entire conversation surrounding Jenner’s controversy. Author and disability activist Erin Tatum went viral when she reenacted Jenner’s cover in her wheelchair. “If being in a wheelchair is trendy now, I’ve apparently been a trendsetter since before Kylie was born,” Tatum wrote in a Tumblr post. Defining ableism in its rawest form, Jenner’s fetishization and wrongful depiction of the disability community opens up a conversation that is still extremely relevant in the fashion and modeling industry today. The disability community is simply not represented in modeling, or properly designed for by leaders of the fashion industry. White, cisgender and able-bodied females like Jenner stand at the center of this industry that many of us care so much about. Jenner portrayed disability as something artsy and provocative when represented by her identity, but when actual members of the disability community fill this role, they are looked down on as incapable, sick and sad, as Tatum mentioned in her Tumblr post. Ever present now as it was in 2015, the need for this multifaceted community to be integrated into the fashion and modeling world is all the more necessary. We need accurate representations of the disability community in modeling, and we need adequate and fashionable and practical clothing options for this community as well. Lucky for those searching for a silver lining in the sometimes dark industry, followers of the fashion industry are able to find hope and inspiration in Aaron Philip. Gaining guidance from fashion trailblazers with disabilities such as Jillian Mercado and Nyle DiMarco, Philip, a transgender model whose pronouns include she/her/hers and they/them/ theirs, have started a revolution in the fashion industry. As a model, they represent and advocate for themself and the entire disability community through their work. DiMarco, a deaf actor, model and activist, was the first deaf person to win “America’s Next Top Model” and “Dancing with the Stars.” Founder of the Nyle DiMarco Foundation, DiMarco serves as a role model to deaf models and children, speaking to language equality and advocacy for literature. Philip’s leading inspiration, Jillian Mercado, who was diagnosed with spastic muscular dystrophy as a teen, has landed modeling contracts with IMG Models and Diesel Jeans, agencies that include a lineup of famous supermodels such as Kate Moss and Heidi Klum. In addition, Mercado starred in Beyonce’s “Formation” video and a marketing campaign for Target. Aligning themselves with these individuals with disabilities, Philip accredits their pursuance of modeling to Mercado especially. “I credit Jillian Mercado as a trailblazer for people with disabilities in fashion,” Philip wrote in an email interview with The Daily. “I credit all the hard working Black models for their beauty & visibility in fashion right now. I credit all the upcoming trans models for their advocacy and visibility as well. I’m a part of all of this, and I just want to work hard to break boundaries.” Acknowledging the need for progress in this industry, Philip is spearheading a movement one simply must rally behind. “The modeling industry has so many issues with not even bothering to take risks and portray disabled bodies of all types in any way,” Philip wrote. “Sometimes they may see an aesthetic within disability in terms of the mobility aids we use and glamorize that, but they still proceed to prioritize big names & able-bodied people. They appropriate disability instead of getting actual models with disabilities involved.” As a Black, transgender and disabled model, Philip has built a platform for themself via social media and blogging, working into the modeling world and setting straight the false aesthetics the modeling and fashion industry can so often rest heavily upon. “I have issues with the way fashion tends to ignorantly objectify certain things from certain types of people and amplify it. For example, cultural appropriation is a problem, ableism in the sense that disabled bodies are negatively objectified by the disability and not the talent, general racism & trans people feel uncomfortable in fashion as a space,” Philip wrote. Philip’s role in the modeling and fashion world is the much-needed push for a long overdue change to what can be a challenging cycle. Philip’s multifaceted identity is real, something people can relate to and certainly something that has challenged the idea of models as commodified products. “I think designers could start with acknowledging physically disabled folk as a part of their narrative and as potential clients, and with that comes having to work with physically disabled models of all conditions and body types as well,” Philip wrote. So to the modeling world: Please, no more Kylie Jenners posing in bedazzled wheelchairs. What we need is a continuation of the monumental movement Philip, DiMarco and Mercado have started and will continue to sculpt for future generations of the disability community. The ever-changing industry needs an aesthetic that is real, accessible, narrated and designed by those who live the reality of disability. Only then will the fashion and modeling industry be something we will be proud to associate with and acknowledge. For the past 50 years in music, it has often been cool to be sad. The countercultural phenomena that have guided teenagers and young adults for decades — movements like grunge, goth, new wave, alternative and punk — tap into the darker side of life, opening the door to themes like depression, nihilism, dissatisfaction and rebellion for millions — if not billions — of those who identify with them. The hipsters of every era tend to be typecast as angsty, if not completely bummed- out — it’s a modern tradition for each period of bubblegum- sweet popular music to be matched with an opposing force of artistic power, one that is historically more alternative and well, sad. This plays into stereotypes, yes, but it also offers a mode of expression for people struggling with legitimate issues beyond the façade, namely mental illness and the disabling, very real sadness it can produce. Now, without the need for a record company to distribute music, this tradition of counterculture has shattered into thousands of subgenres within subgenres, an endless line of evolutions from the legends of the past. Nothing has changed the rap scene in this way so much like the full embrace of Soundcloud as a method of distribution and expression — so much so that the “Soundcloud rapper” has become a social type. Though this movement often boasts an image of party-savvy and drugged-up youth, it has also offered a niche for rappers to tackle previously untouched or hidden topics, one of these subjects being mental illness and the nihilism that sometimes comes with it. This has spawned rap’s new guard, an assemblage of teens and early 20-somethings with names like Lil Pump, Lil Xan, Lil Uzi Vert and Lil Peep, boasting the collective title of “emo rap.” Why are they all “Lil”? We’ll never know. But it is clear from their music that these artists are not afraid to attack the darker side of life, most notably the realities of depression and the drug addiction that can accompany it. Their songs have lyrics like, “I don’t really care if I die / Push me to the edge / All my friends are dead,” (“XO TOUR Llif3,” Lil Uzi Vert) and “My life is goin’ nowhere / I want everyone to know that I don’t care,” (“OMFG,” Lil Peep). This music is a subversive tangent from the classically hyper-masculine stereotypes of rap, attacking the taboos of mental illness and its consequences with a brash sense of self-assuredness. It has a characteristically slow, reserved tempo and heavy low end, creating a weight in each song that only enhances their typically melancholy or mundane lyrics. “Emo rap,” or “sad rap,” as some have called it, still maintains the “party hard, get bitches” mentality of the rap music of late, a parallel with the similarly popular trap music of artists like Migos. But it goes beyond the party, often using the motifs of drugs like Xanax and lean to enhance a blissed- out image. Though it may seem like their music encourages drug use, it is slowly moving towards the opposite. Artists like Lil Xan often make a point to deter their fans from diving into drug use further than just the image it presents. Xan himself is known to yell things like “Fuck Xanax 2018!” at his concerts, and his songs contain lyrics like “Xans don’t make you / Xans gon’ take you,” to emphasize this sentiment even more. The emo rap scene originated with a sense of self-destruction, but has recently shifted towards an image that still maintains the teen angst and recklessness of its past with a new warning of its dangers. Though it still perpetuates an image that glorifies sadness and heavy drug use, emo rap has the potential for change in this area. The people who listen to emo rap are typically in it for the aesthetic, but can get drawn into the lifestyle via the image and fall prey to its realities. This image is likely not going to change anytime soon, as it is sometimes more popular than the actual music, but the content has a chance to make up for that. Instead of completely embracing the sadness of depression and addiction, Lil Xan and many of his contemporaries have integrated a wary message into their music — one that celebrates partying, but points out the disabling sadness and looming addiction that the party lifestyle often creates in its participants with a rough but honest voice. This presents itself most intensely in light of the recent Nov. death of Lil Peep, one of the genre’s rising stars. Peep was only 21 at the time of his untimely death — a suspected drug overdose on his tour bus in Temple, Ariz. He was perhaps the most outspoken member of the emo rap scene about his struggles with depression, taking a no-holds-barred approach to his musical content in terms of transparency. Peep was open about the realities of life as someone who battled many demons, a drug user and a member of the genre which has, in the past, glorified drug use to a dangerous extent. In one of his last interviews with Montreal media outlet MONTREALITY, Peep touched on this candidly, saying “You can’t predict where you’re going to be next year. You have no idea. I’ve been in very, very, very low points like shitty situations, horrible situation,” continued Peep. “My mom always tells me time will heal everything … It will eventually get better.” His colleagues, artists like Lil Xan, have taken his death as an opportunity to comment on the image they portray of an alluring world that indulges in drugs and sadness. There is still a ways to go in order to get rid of the negative aspects of the emo rap image, but many of the genre’s intentions show a unique side of rap that has been left unexplored in the past. The realities of mental illness and disabling addiction are a consistent presence in emo rap, and that has opened a door for further development of the genre. Though much of its music now highlights partying, emo rap holds an intriguing promise for the future, one which offers a complex mix of awareness and the classic themes of recklessness that listeners know well. It continues to be a fascinating case study in what happens when self-destruction reaches a tipping point. The response to Lil Peep’s death has proven that many of the genre’s artists are committed to shifting their message to one that warns of the dangers hidden in partying and the glorification of mental illness. It is possible that the Soundcloud rappers have something more to say here, and their music has the potential to spread that message to those who really need it. The sad guard of emo rap CLARA SCOTT Daily Arts Writer First Access/Warner Bros. Sweden MUSIC Aaron Philip & necessity to represent disability in the new world of fashion STYLE MARGARET SHERIDAN Daily Arts Writer Courtesy of Ella Wiznia Courtesy of Ella Wiznia Though this movement often boasts an image of party-savvy and drugged-up youth, it has also offered a niche for rappers to tackle previously untouched or hidden topics, one of these subjects being mental illness and the nihilism that sometimes comes with it Peep was open about the realities of life as someone who battled many demons, a drug user and a member of the genre which has, in the past, glorified drug use to a dangerous extent