NUVO

Oh, my beloved hometown alt-weekly. NUVO was an Indianapolis icon (to those who knew about it) and had been throughout my childhood. My editorial internship there during the summer of 2010 was my first real foray into journalism; I'd been interning in nonprofit development, with a few previous internships and a campus job in PR, before deciding journalism school would be interesting. I soon learned the programs I wanted to enroll in generally favored candidates with some remote experience, and in July, my weak email landed in then-managing editor Jim Poyser's inbox. He was a family friend, and opened the door to the rest of my career. When my internship wrapped up in December, I stuck around to be editorial assistant, later serving as interim news editor when Austin Considine left for The New York Times. Jim, Austin, and the rest of the editorial staff changed the way I saw journalism and reporting. My short time there confirmed for me that I was on the right path (finally). Below you'll find a few of the features I worked on; see more blog posts and news stories at my full author profile here. 

Human Trafficking in Indiana

Published July 11, 2011, on NUVO.net

While Indianapolis revels in summertime celebrations of sensuality, a darker and under-acknowledged side to sex in the Circle City also lurks.

Human trafficking, a $30 billion business worldwide, has gained increasing attention from policymakers and law enforcement in the last few years. Several human rights groups around the state have been working to increase awareness of the problem and the resources available to help underserved, and often undetected, victims.

"Many people don't believe that it can happen here," said Carleen Miller, executive director of Exodus Refugee Immigration, Inc. "We know that it can."

Since 2005, Exodus and the Julian Center have partnered with law enforcement, social services and health care organizations to form the Indianapolis Network to Assist Trafficked People (INATP). Funded by the U.S. Department of Justice's Office for Victims of Crime, the collective performs community outreach and provides aid to victims.

Victim service providers also sit on the Indiana Protection of Abused and Trafficked Humans task force (IPATH), one of 42 such task forces nationwide.

So far, Exodus has been able to help roughly 30 victims in Indiana. That number may sound small, but as Miller points out, "One person is too many."

High Profit, Low Risk

Raio Krishnayya, founder and executive director of Indiana's Center for Victim and Human Rights (CVHR), said the risk-reward profile of trafficking works in the perpetrators' favor.

"The funny thing is, the cost of human labor is actually incredibly cheap but nets a very large profit," he said. "The data that's out there... suggests that you can make about $1,100 per person, per week."

The temptation of financial gain is compounded by how likely it is traffickers will get away with these crimes.

"If you do the math, there's less than 1 percent chance of being convicted for human trafficking," Krishnayya said.

Thus, estimates of trafficking activity, an "underreported crime" according to Krishnayya, are vague at best. But law enforcement has stepped up its efforts to target perpetrators.

According to the annual Trafficking in Persons Report released in June, federal prosecutors nationwide obtained 141 convictions last year in 103 human trafficking cases, encompassing both commercial sex and bonded labor crimes. This marks the largest annual number of federal prosecutions for trafficking crimes.

Indiana is not a national hotbed for trafficking activity, but by no means is it untainted by these crimes. In January, the Marion County Prosecutor's Office announced its first conviction of human trafficking in the case of Chris Smiley. Then in May, authorities busted a multi-state ring that had been bringing women across U.S. borders to work as prostitutes on Indianapolis' northwest side. But these cases are exceptional for their success in targeting commercial abuse.

Part of the problem lies in the legal criteria required for a human trafficking charge.

Enacted in 2006, Indiana Code 35-42-3.5 states that a person who knowingly "recruits, harbors or transports another person by force, threat of force or fraud" for the purpose of forced labor, or to coerce the person into marriage or prostitution, commits "promotion of human trafficking, a Class B felony."

The law's interpretation may seem fairly straightforward, but proving coercion or fraud can be difficult. And victims are often reluctant to come forward, particularly if their immigration status is in question. Traffickers use this to their advantage in the case of foreign nationals, dangling deportation as a consequence of leaving an abusive situation.

Providing adequate services to victims in such situations is a complicated task.

"It's not that victims want to be abused, it's that we cannot offer them enough protection," Krishnayya said. "Prosecutors and law enforcement don't have the resources... to bring someone up to essentially a living standard where they can choose to break away from the trafficker.

"The mechanisms for basically controlling a victim are only limited to a trafficker's creativity... The more sophisticated ones are going to use a lot more psychological coercion."

Breakdown in the System

In order to carry out a three "p" paradigm in addressing trafficking — prosecute, protect, prevent — CVHR strives to rectify inherent inadequacies within the trafficking response system.

Under the federal Trafficking Victims Protection Act of 2000, trafficking victims are eligible for a special visa, which allows temporary residence in the U.S. for up to 3 years and access public benefits like Medicaid, food stamps and subsidized housing. But eligibility is predicated on law enforcement's determination that a victim has complied with all "reasonable requests" during investigation and prosecution — if the case even makes it that far. The definition of "reasonable request" varies between agencies and prosecutors.

"The gatekeeper function of law enforcement doesn't work," Krishnayya said.

He suggests foregoing the existing eligibility requirement in favor of letting trafficked persons prove victimization "through their own independent evidence." Much of CVHR's work involves educational outreach regarding these policy inefficiencies to social services and government organizations.

It's unlikely, however, that any significant changes will be brought about in Indiana before what may be a main attraction for traffickers: The 2012 Super Bowl. In the past, the game has flooded host cities with trafficking activity.

In an MSNBC report earlier this year, the Texas attorney general's office estimated that up to 10,000 adult and underage girls have been imported to service Super Bowls crowds.

To prepare for the influx expected during 2011's game in Dallas, welfare agencies worked with law enforcement and the airline industry to raise awareness and identify signs of trafficking. When asked if she was aware of any similar initiative in Indianapolis for 2012, Exodus' Carleen Miller spoke to an active but realistic approach.

"We have a committee working on preparations for the Super Bowl. Law enforcement has it on their radar screen," she said. "We want to be proactive but we also don't want to sensationalize a problem if it's not going to be a problem."

Good Samaritans

The power to stop human trafficking is not limited, however, to these organized groups. According to Exodus, the general public can be instrumental in victim identification. Miller asked that citizens "be aware" by establishing neighborhood watch programs to look for signs of trafficking and reporting concerns to police.

Victims of trafficking, while at times hard to detect, may display any number of telltale signs, according to a 2008 United Nations Toolkit to Combat Trafficking in Persons. These include: signs of physical abuse; having no time off from work; having little or no access to cash; a stance demonstrated mistrust of authorities; having limited social interaction; and an inability to communicate or move around freely.

Child victims of trafficking demonstrate similar symptoms of abuse. Other clues advocates note include: having no friends outside of work; having no time to play; not eating meals with other "family" members; subsisting on leftovers; traveling unaccompanied by adults or in groups of unrelated people; and finding unaccompanied children carrying taxi telephone numbers.

Miller also suggested researching the origins of consumer items and vacation destinations, noting countries' records in trafficking enforcement, and advocating for stronger community responses to the demand for forced labor.

"We can work with victims in lots of different ways," Miller said, "but if we don't reduce the demand side, then the problem of trafficking continues."

Reframing misconceptions about the realities of trafficking is a significant first step in confronting what many consider an "over there problem," according to Krishnayya.

"I think people understand the gist generally, but how it happens... and who is really a potential victim is not well understood," he said. "People don't really realize how wide and broad it can be."

The Novice Chronicles: Crashing Winterfest 2011 

Published January 31, 2011, on NUVO.net

“This is why I watch football games at home,” remarked my father as we crossed the threshold into this year’s Winterfest.

True, the din inside the Indiana State Fairgrounds’ Agri/Hort Building on Saturday was overwhelming, a sensory-overloading mishmash of boisterous brewers and consumers mingling over mini-pints. But their jostling and pushing did little to detract from the vast array of good, local beer on site.

Well, “good” by the standards of those who actually know craft beer. Right off the bat I was decidedly self-conscious of just how unqualified I was for this particular adventure. The extent of my beer knowledge is limited to comparisons of caloric content between the standard college-party offerings, Keystone vs. Coors Light.

It wasn’t until editing NUVO’s Jan. 26 cover story that I began to consider the nuances of craft-beer appreciation. The endless considerations in testing brews were baffling to me, but I was intrigued enough by the cliquish hedonistic culture weasel some tix to the sold-out event.

I felt like a fraud on Indiana Brewers’ Guild territory, armed only with the dumbed-down beer how-to bullet points found in last week’s merciful sidebars. To illustrate, were you aware that beer is made up of hops, yeast and water? Of course you were. I, on the other hand, was essentially embarking on the beer equivalent of a blindfolded joyride.

After collecting our roadmap programs and souvenir glasses, we stopped to take in our surroundings. The Guild had turned the space into a formidable convention center for Indiana’s beer nerds. And though the venue could have benefitted from more dump-and-rinse troughs stationed throughout, conditions were otherwise perfect for enthusiasts to browse the snaking labyrinth of brewery booths.

We started our Tour de Froth at Shoreline Brewery’s booth; I selected the Bavarian Bombshell, a brown ale, because our program’s description mentioned chocolate and I happen to be a hormonal 23-year-old girl. It’s my cross to bear. I would soon learn that choco-beer is just too rich for me past the first three sips. This revelation somehow did not stop me from sampling roughly four more variations.

Moseying to Mad Anthony Brewing Co. next door, my dad and I both tried out Good Karma IPA — again, I was lured in by the beer’s boast of caramel malts. Even to a rookie palate, the bitterness of the hops was striking. Next we made our way to Broad Ripple Brewpub’s booth; manning the bar were some familiar faces from our regular Sunday night dinners, who supplied us with the Monon Porter and the Marzen. I found myself again leaning towards the lighter latter.

Just a few stops down the same aisle, we discovered our unanimously agreed upon favorite at Bee Creek Brewery; their Hoosier Honey Wheat was a dream, for newbies and aficionados alike.

Though much of Winterfest’s appeal is its celebration of local breweries, we felt it would have been downright xenophobic to miss out on sampling the out-of-state brew lines. We never made it over to North Coast Brewing Co., but the east coast was well represented indeed.

Brooklyn Brewery’s Brown Ale almost did me in with its triple-threat backgrounds of coffee, chocolate and caramel. Massachusetts and Vermont transplant Harpoon Brewery was up next — truthfully, it was likely due to the novelty of their UFO Hefeweitzen that we were drawn to the vendor. I preferred the wheat beer to its bitter brother Leviathan Imperial IPA, which boasted a whopping 10 percent alcohol content.

We promptly got back to our Midwest roots though, tolerating the long lines in front of Sun King, People’s Brewing Company and NUVO’s cover darlings at Bier Brewery. Honestly, the wait was a hidden boon — plenty of time to digest and metabolize the rich samples.

With full bellies and a buzz, at least on my lightweight part, we left Winterfest very satisfied with the overall sampling experience. I’m still holding onto my embarrassingly obvious neophyte status in the craft-beer business; I’d do well to avoid serious conversation on the matter with a connoisseur.

But at the very least, I may now be able to hold my own on the customers’ side of the bar, equipped with the self-awareness that I’m generally a lager girl. Thanks to the fine, benevolent brewmasters of Indiana and beyond, I can shed the last threads of my collegiate safety blanket and branch out from my uninspired, often unsatisfying beer orders. PBR be damned!

Artist Profile: Hugh Leeman

Published January 4, 2011, on NUVO.net

Following his October exhibit at ARTBOX, Indiana native Hugh Leeman has once again settled into his new life as a San Francisco artist and resident. We caught up with him recently, standing amidst the clutter of his studio apartment in the Tenderloin District, hair tousled and clothes splattered with paint, looking every bit the part of a bohemian street artist.

There's more to Leeman than looking the part, however. He is an artist who incorporates social justice and awareness in his work in the hopes of breaking down class barriers. It's an ethic and aesthetic he's brought from the midwest to west coast, with hopes of extending even further.

Shortly after moving to the Bay Area nearly five years ago, Leeman began working at a soup kitchen near his 6th & Market apartment. "I assumed initially that it was a methadone clinic," he admits. "My perceptions of the neighborhood had become a little bit discolored and more based on ignorance."

It wasn't long before he started talking with the regulars, sketching and taking pictures when they would allow it. "Once you got talking to people, you're like, Jesus, this isn't at all what I thought it was," he says.

His self-funded T-shirt Project was born of a thoughtful gift idea, thanking one of the portrait subjects. Leeman began screen printing t-shirts en masse and passing them out to residents loitering outside of his studio. This practice evolved into something of a business enterprise, though the artist doesn't actually profit from the individual exchanges.

In addition to frequent impromptu giveaways, Leeman distributes the majority of the t-shirts in bulk to his soup-kitchen acquaintances. They then sell the shirts for a dollar a piece, keeping the money for themselves. The small price is perhaps an arbitrary decision on the artists' part; patrons can also pay $10 if they purchase online. He gives a nod to Street Sheet, a free publication put out by San Francisco's Coalition on Homelessness, as the inspiration for his project. The pamphlets have a similar policy of optional payment. "I think I'm one of the few people that buy 'em," he says. "It's a good thing for sure, but not many people want to buy them."

Welcome to the Neighborhood

Since launching this venture, Leeman has become a neighborhood character himself, similar to the residents we met as I shadowed him on a recent giveaway. The men and women who frequent the streets surrounding his studio clearly have come to appreciate Leeman's generosity.

As we stand beside a fold-up table and cardboard box full of shirts, people flock to talk with the artist, bum a cigarette and pick up their apparel.

One man, Adib, stops to express gratitude for Leeman's work after hurrying to grab one of the last shirts. "We want to see him win," he says. "He's in the right place, the right community." Adib invites us to a dinner for the Muslim community just around the corner; the artist enthusiastically agrees to swing by later.

But Leeman wasn't always so popular on 6th Street. "When I first started giving the stuff away, people kind of thought I was a cop," he recalls. His first attempts at connecting with the community included offering hand-me-down clothes and supplies, asking if residents would let him take their pictures and perhaps paint them. This tactic was generally unsuccessful.

It wasn't until one of his first portrait models, Ray, vouched for him that he was accepted, then embraced. "Initially the clothes were simply my old clothing, but from there it began to take on a life of its own as people would ask if I could paint them," he explained in a later correspondence. "This urge to be heard inspired putting their portraits on the front of the clothes."

The artist now splits his time between the studio and the street. His creative process typically begins behind a lens; Leeman takes photos of the people he finds most compelling, creating sketches or paintings from the captured images. He then uses digital printing to copy the portraits for multimedia production. These homeless faces become iconic in postcards, murals, shirts and paintings. Leeman circulates the images, putting up murals and distributing shirts, to draw attention to his neighbors and foster curiosity in more affluent populations.

"The beauty of it was, you just introduced these totally disparate demographics to one another," the artist muses. "I think there's some real potential for something beautiful with that."

Bodily Functions and the Creative Process

Sparking that cultural exchange represents something larger for Leeman. His work, the painter says, is about "forced elemental exposure," bringing outcasts back into mainstream society. That treatment is evident in his technique and materials as well.

Using urine, steel and the natural rusting process, Leeman has stumbled upon a striking creative process in his paintings. "The thing that's really beautiful is, I don't control that," he says. "There's no sense of vanity to saying that's beautiful because I didn't really create it at all, you know?" Leeman sells these pieces to fund the Project, his primary focus.

Besides shirts and metalwork, the artist is most widely known for his large-scale street art, which has appeared in cities across the world, from Atlanta to Tel Aviv. His murals, wheatpaste prints enlarged to the point of distortion, splash faces of politicians and Tenderloin regulars alike across billboards, traffic signs and brick walls.

Leeman uses lifted wallpaper designs as background, prints that audiences are used to seeing indoors. "The human being is intent to be inside, and they're forced outside," he says of his homeless models. "So the idea's to conceptually add some irony to what's going on."

Public art of this magnitude has the unique ability to give voice to those who might otherwise go unheard, to draw significant attention to the invisible. When I ask what he thinks his subjects want to say, Leeman reflects on the damaging effect homelessness has on a person's sense of self-worth. "They don't want someone to know anything in particular about them," he says. "They want someone to know them, period."

The artist hopes that his work will inspire audiences to confront their preconceptions and look at the people they turn away from on the morning commute. He recognizes, however, that his efforts are just "the tip of the iceberg" in bringing about real change. "That interaction right there," he says, "there's so much more that can be done with that."

A Team Effort

Leeman also knows he can't maintain the operation on his own. "It kind of becomes this self-devouring project," he says. It's an exhausting cycle of painting, printing and promoting. "Just about everything in life is finite when there's just one person doing it."

Though the Project began as a one-man army, Leeman's initiative has expanded to include a small team of reliable distributors, namely Blue, Bernard and Indian Joe, three of his earliest acquaintances in the neighborhood.

The artist has his sights set on further expansion. Several collaborations are in the works, allowing him to use other avenues of artistic expression to get his message out – fashion and documentary film, specifically. Sean Desmond, a videographer who spent the last several months filming Leeman's efforts, has been instrumental in helping him set up these deals. He put the artist in touch with high-end clothing company Black Scale. Leeman hopes the store will carry his simple graphic shirts later this year. "I have this opportunity to start implementing these ideas elsewhere," he says. "And the funding of it's wonderful."

As he continues to develop the Project, Leeman is starting to harness mobile technology as well. His newest approach involves tagging his posters with small Quick Response barcodes, offering "a uniquely interactive experience with my art and the T-Shirt Project." The artist explains it as an evolved form of the UPC; any smart phone can scan the poster's code with a free application. Users are then directed to the Project's website, www.voice2voiceless.com, where they can learn more about the initiative. "This furthers the idea of creating a real-life Facebook, extending the opportunity for the community to meet one another," Leeman said in a recent email update. "I'm excited because this elevates the artwork to being a potential community project."

The resulting publicity will no doubt diversify the market for his artwork and apparel. "I always had seen it as advertising for these people and introducing these people to different demographics," he explains. Building on the success of last year's exhibition at ARTBOX downtown, he plans to organize more shows in galleries across the country.

While preparing for the ARTBOX engagement, however, the artist worried that Indianapolis audiences wouldn't connect with his focus or medium. "It's just a matter of letting your own ignorance be dissipated by reality," he says. "I was a bit concerned like, man, this may not speak to people here." But the show was a success, prompting a 4-star review from NUVO art critic Dan Grossman.

"I guess that's what's been inspiring about the idea of expansion," he says, looking back on his first homecoming since leaving Indiana at 18. He hopes that his provocative work will reach those who need cultural exposure the most. "That's the best thing you can do."

Miss Pivot: Joan of Arc to Naptown Singles 

Published September 24, 2010, on NUVO.net

Just after dusk on a recent Thursday night, I found myself standing outside of Landsharks in Broad Ripple, preparing to interview for a spot on an elite team of dating-savvy broads. Miss Pivot, an Indianapolis-based social consulting firm, is looking to expand its army of Pivot Girls. My recruited partner in crime, Anna, had already suggested several times that we ditch the event altogether. Surely nursing beers at Plump’s takes priority over mocking the socially inept. Though we had no interest in actually becoming trained wingladies, our smirking dismissal would soon be replaced by a sheepish desire to learn more.

This evening’s venture was inspired by a Craig’s List tip, an ad titled “Serious, unique opportunity for fun outgoing females” — the aforementioned Pivot Girls. Launched in September of last year, Miss Pivot trains some of the most hopeless cases in the art of dating using proven theories of non-verbal communication. Undercover consultants accompany these men and women out on the town, instructing them in the wild. Through continued coaching, clients have demonstrated remarkable progress in social competence.

I’ll admit, upon first glance I found the very idea of the company laughable. This is not to say that I am by any means dating-adept — quite the contrary, considering my track record. The subject of many a contemptuous Times article, my generation can list among its faults an impotence in forming lasting romantic relationships. We’ve apparently got it easy, however, compared to Miss Pivot’s clientele.

My cohort and I settled down at the bar and looked over the supplied application. “Please list any relevant skills and proficiencies.” After making the obligatory jokes about our sexual prowess, we floundered. We wanted to wow these guys, but how does one tactfully phrase “not cripplingly awkward” in job-seeking terms?

It wasn’t long before the interview was upon us. Truthfully, as I listened to the charming, lisping Josh explain the principles of social coaching, I began to reconsider the seemingly sordid endeavor in a more altruistic light. However skeptical at the start, I was rapidly becoming a Miss Pivot convert.

The science of it is simple enough: As social creatures, we should naturally possess the appropriate sensibilities for interpreting signals from the target sex. But what about those who sincerely lack such capabilities? Blame unlucky genetics, overzealous parenting or the isolating ubiquity of the Internet; whatever the underlying cause, there are some poor schmucks among us who need a little help to seal the deal.

And maybe “schmuck” is a tad harsh. Landing in the underwhelming slot #31 on Forbes.com’s 2009 “Best Cities for Singles” list, Indianapolis doesn’t have the greatest prospects to begin with. Further, I’m confident that even the most self-assured has questioned his or her own skills after less-than-warm reception on the bar scene. We could all probably use a little sensitivity training when it comes to understanding the give-and-take of relationships. If imitating best practices of Jersey Shore fails us, what’s left but established scientific theory?

So now I wait, with bated breath, to hear back from Miss Pivot regarding potential employment. While I agonize, sitting by a silent phone like so many of my fellow singles, I encourage you to check out her services for yourself (http://misspivot.com). For all we know, social consulting might very well be the saving grace for a generation otherwise doomed to fruitless Poking.