{"id":765,"date":"2021-01-17T10:49:17","date_gmt":"2021-01-17T15:49:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/?page_id=765"},"modified":"2026-03-26T16:15:29","modified_gmt":"2026-03-26T20:15:29","slug":"keaona-gray-outlaw","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/keaona-gray-outlaw\/","title":{"rendered":"Two Stories by Keaona Gray-Outlaw"},"content":{"rendered":"

Collin Anderson Memorial Award Winner<\/span><\/h3>\n

Out of the Box<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, let\u2019s start this over.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The room is small, like the size of a box. It has four long beige walls, a desk, three chairs, and a lamp bright enough so you could see both of us. We sat a few feet apart. She was looking at me through her black frames. I could only look down. My hands were shaking. I could see the hairs rise up on my black skin and could see the frustration on her black skin slowly build up. But just like a bottle that\u2019s been shaken and is ready to fizz out, we both decided to keep a cap on what we wanted to say. I let out a deep sigh and sat up in my chair. I knew I had to be here anyway, so I might as well suck it up.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry. I\u2019m just…not used to this kind of thing.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s okay. We can take it slowly, Tobias.\u201d Ms. Miller said calmly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ms. Miller\u2019s voice seemed so soothing. Almost as if using words seemed to be her hidden talent. She was young, about 30. Which is almost young enough to understand me. She couldn’t be a boy and 16 like me, but she at least used to be. She was wearing a black trailblazer suit that didn’t seem to fit the environment that we were in. Her curly black hair got in the way of seeing her full face and her high heels made it impossible to see if she was actually tall. I was curious about who she was. But she\u2019s only here to learn about me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI mean don’t most people who do this have some sort of issue they need help with.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEveryone has issues, Tobias. It’s just a matter of how good we are at hiding them.\u201d Ms. Miller opened her notebook and clicked her pen to a fresh page. The flipping sound of the pages in her notebook gave me chills on my skin. I felt like I was in a classroom being evaluated by my teacher for good behavior. Ms. Miller, on the other hand, seemed pretty eager to begin the session.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRemember everything you say in the room is confidential. This is a safe space for you. So don\u2019t think anyone is gonna walk through that door and penalize you for what you say. You think you\u2019re ready to talk to me now?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I let out a deep breath. This time I was gonna try and speak. My intuition was telling me that I couldn’t avoid this conversation. \u201cYeah\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d The okay she gave me seemed patient and reassuring that she was all ears. \u201cFirst, let\u2019s talk about how you’re feeling. How are you feeling today?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d say confused, maybe. You know I don’t really know why I\u2019m here today. I just know that my parents wanted me to come.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ms. Miller wrote a note in her notebook. She was taking notes on me. \u201cAnd do you know why your parents may have wanted you to come today?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I swallowed a big gulp of anxiety. I couldn\u2019t tell if she was just asking me questions or trying to get to me. Either way, I wasn\u2019t gonna let her get to me. \u201cNo, I don’t. Most parents in Brooklyn don’t end up sending their kids to therapy. Do they even believe that their kids get sad anyways?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ms. Miller drew a smirk. From the smirk, she convinced me that I was right. This isn\u2019t an actual thing for black kids, let alone black boys. \u201cWell, maybe that\u2019s why you\u2019re here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I think my parents just wanna be right.\u201d My tone became something that sounds like what you hear after waiting in line for so long. I\u2019m annoyed with my parents and everything in between. I don’t wanna be here. I just wanna leave this box that\u2019s suffocating me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ms. Miller had a curious face that was staring me down. She read something in between the lines of what I said but couldn\u2019t make it out unless I let her. I told myself I wouldn\u2019t say too much.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, what would your parents wanna be right about?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cParents wanna be right about everything. They hit their kids because they’re afraid of being wrong.\u201d My mind raced back to the moment Mom was mad that I spilled my dinner plate on the living room floor. It on Thanksgiving day when I was 12. She beat me with a belt in front of my older brother Aiden and my younger sister Cynthia. \u201cThat\u2019s what you get for spilling food on the floor you can\u2019t clean up! You want to make a mess, well let me show you what happens when you do!\u201d. It was an accident. My mother struck me three times, each time, hard enough for me to not forget how it feels. My father at that moment was watching the game on TV in the main bedroom, while my screams became the background noise. I can see now why being wrong always terrified me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI think your parents just care for you. Being a parent is hard, you know? It only gets more difficult with time. Maybe they just struggle to show you that sometimes.\u201d Ms. Miller was trying to not pass judgment and to understand but she couldn\u2019t get the full picture. You could tell she was trying her hardest to make me comfortable. Her tone is soft like from the narrators you hear on an animal discovery documentary. Calm and sensitive. She closes her notebook and places it on the desk next to her pen. She made this gesture so I wouldn’t feel like she was writing a novel about me. But there was something in the way of her understanding. \u201cWhy don\u2019t we just try getting to know you. What are some things you like?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI like a lot of things.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are some of those things?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The chair I was sitting in started to get warm. I felt myself sinking in it as we got deeper into the conversation. Maybe this wasn\u2019t a bad idea.\u201cI like playing my PlayStation, Football, making bracelets with my younger sister, wearing silkies, and styling my outfits. I\u2019m really into fashion and music and all of that stuff.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s good. And what do you do with your interest? Are you a part of any clubs or do these things in your free time?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t really do all that. I just do it when I want to and when I can. I like it, so I do it. Like today, I put on this turtleneck that\u2019s navy green so it compliments my black suede pants.\u201d I smiled as I explained just how much good taste I have.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ms. Miller smiled at me with delight. \u201cThat\u2019s fine. It\u2019s good to have an outlet for your creativity and being able to express how you\u2019re feeling through things you like to do. You\u2019ve mentioned things that you do like. What are some things that you don\u2019t like?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I immediately looked at Ms. Miller with fear. She was confused by my facial expression and why I was so afraid to answer the question. I was caught off guard by the question because I knew the answer. Well, at least the real answer. The answer that would answer more than just that question. I have to make a decision: the truth or the half-truth.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c I don\u2019t like\u2026.\u201d I paused. My voice began to tremble. My hands were shaking again. That uneasy feeling was in my throat again. It became a noise I could hear. I could hear it in my ears, my eyes, my chest. It felt like it was everywhere. My heart was beating faster than I could catch my thoughts. This all felt surreal, like a movie. But I knew I couldn\u2019t escape this feeling unless I got out what I had to say. Could I trust her? Would she judge me? Maybe I should just say it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCan I just learn a little more about you first Ms. Miller, please?\u201d I didn\u2019t wanna shut Ms. Miller out. But I knew I couldn’t handle answering that question. She\u2019s doing so much to help me so I don\u2019t wanna lie to her.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ms. Miller sat up in her chair and fixed her glasses. \u201cSure Tobias, that\u2019s fine. What would you like to know about me? You can ask me anything. As long as it\u2019s not about my cat Nancy, I can talk all day about her.\u201d She laughs and smiles at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

I laugh at the thought that we both have cats, my cat Winnie is the best too. \u201cI have a cat too, her name is Winnie. She used to be small. But now, she\u2019s getting really old and fat.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

At this point, we were both smiling and laughing. This is the first time I have all day. It feels good.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAny more questions for me Tobias?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, um, what\u2019s your favorite thing to do?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019d have to say it\u2019s going to the movies with my husband who is very fond of Star wars and supernatural movies.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I look down with sadness in my eyes. Ms. Miller seems to be so happy and lucky. She has someone who loves her. I envy that almost.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you have anyone you like to spend time with? Maybe, family or friends, you\u2019re particularly close with.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I thought long and hard about how I wanted to answer this question. \u201cI like being with my family. I mean they get on my nerves sometimes but I love them to death. I just think they don\u2019t understand me half of the time.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s something they don\u2019t understand about you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Easily I\u2019m annoyed again. There\u2019s only one real problem my parents have with me.\u201cWhy I don\u2019t have a girlfriend is one.\u201d It felt so freeing to say that. I can never bring this up in front of anyone else. But Ms. Miller made it a bit easier to say whatever I was thinking.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it is your choice who you care to be with and when. You don\u2019t have to have a girlfriend because your parents want you to. And you should never feel obligated either.\u201d Hearing that sounded like it would have come from an angel. Those words were words I wasn\u2019t expecting. She wasn\u2019t touching me but I could feel her hugging me all around. I felt safe in the embrace of her words. By now I just wanted her to cradle me more.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it\u2019s not that. I just don\u2019t want a girlfriend.\u201d I said eagerly and defensively. She wasn\u2019t attacking me but I prepared myself in case she did.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd that\u2019s fine a relationship isn\u2019t required-\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo Ms. Miller-\u201d, cutting her off from her sentence. I had to say it. If I didn\u2019t say it \u201cI don\u2019t-I don\u2019t like girls.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My breath was shaky and my palms were sweaty. This was the moment my parents sent me here for. To make me feel this way. To make me scared of speaking. No, stop it, Tobias. She\u2019s here to help you. Focus on that. Not your parents.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was back in that moment. I\u2019m seven years old. I\u2019m in the bathroom of our small Brooklyn apartment. I had a towel around me and was looking at the bathwater run through the tub. My older brother and younger sister were sleeping in their bedrooms. My parents were away on a cruise to celebrate a wedding for their friend. The walls of the bathroom were so white that you could almost see your reflection through the tiles. My uncle Tae was there to babysit. He came into the bathroom to check up on the water on the tub.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou ready to get in the bath little Toby? It\u2019s not too hot so don\u2019t go complaining either.\u201d Uncle Tae said as he turned off the water. He sat on the toilet seat as he helped me take off my towel wrapped around me. When my body was uncovered he stared at it. He stared at me with examination and delight. He liked what he saw but tried to find a way to tell me. At that moment, I was only expecting to get in the shower. \u201cYou know your Uncle Tae loves you right? And you love Uncle Tae right?\u201d I nodded my head. \u201cSo if you love your Uncle Tae then maybe you can do something for him and keep it a secret. Can you do that little Toby?\u201d I nodded my head to him with confusion. He smiled at me and stood above me. His six-foot body had already won over my 4 feet in height. He unbuckled his belt in front of my face. I knew at that moment I should have left the room.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ms. Miller paused. She was silent for a second. I could tell we both knew the next question she was gonna ask. I was just hoping that she wouldn\u2019t.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTobias, are you saying to me that you\u2019re gay?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

This moment was harder than I thought it would be. I feel drained. This moment is taking up too much of my body. My hands are shaking. My eyes can\u2019t open. My voice can\u2019t go without trembling. I just feel like I\u2019m suffocating in this box room. The four brown walls are caving in on me. The dim lamp is growing hotter on my hands on the desk. The clicking of the pen is too loud over my thoughts running rapidly. Breathing becomes harder and room to be calm isn\u2019t surrounding me. Ms. Miller is looking at me. Her brown eyes staring at me through her black glasses are looking further into this feeling I\u2019m hiding. Her black trailblazer suit made me feel inferior to what she was thinking and why. She had to ask this question. She had to get me to this point. This morning when I woke up I wasn\u2019t expecting this chair to feel the way it does. It\u2019s warm, hard, and filled with discomfort. I don\u2019t really know what I\u2019m feeling. I don\u2019t know how to feel. Am I scared? Am I anxious? Is it just me? I\u2019m trapped in all of these thoughts. And there\u2019s no one holding me back but myself. It\u2019s not my fault. None of it is. My parents won\u2019t believe me. Why didn\u2019t I tell them? I was scared of them knowing the truth. They always had their own definition of it. I could never be right with them. To them, I\u2019ve made too many mistakes. I\u2019m always going to be a fuck up to them. Football isn\u2019t enough. Respectfulness isn\u2019t enough. I don’t know how to please them, or anyone.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ms. Miller is calm enough for me so that I can feel safe. This is a room I\u2019ve never been in and never hoped to be in either. But here I am. And yet with being here she still doesn\u2019t know. Can she understand? Can anyone understand? Tell her Tobias. Boys aren\u2019t afraid. Boys don\u2019t cry, we get through it. You\u2019re 16 you have too much to lose.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her eyes seem understanding and she\u2019s patient with what I have to say. She waits there waiting for me to be ready with an answer. It\u2019s just that I won\u2019t let her. Because she just doesn\u2019t know. She doesn\u2019t know how painful it is to always feel wrong. All my parents have ever been good at is making me feel wrong. \u201cDo this Tobias or else you won\u2019t be better than anyone else!\u201d or \u201cYou can\u2019t make a living out of fashion you\u2019re a boy, not a faggot!\u201d But I love fashion. I love what I can wear. I feel free. I feel empowered. No one will pick the clothes out of the closet as I will. No one will show the appreciation I have for my style. But no one will love me as I will. Did he love me? If he did would he have done that? Why do people love? How do they do it? And why do they do it the way they do?<\/span><\/p>\n

I love my family. My mom, Dad, sister, and brother. They may be imperfect, but they\u2019re my family. Family means the world to me. But things haven\u2019t been the same since Uncle Tae passed, at least for them. He was the anchor of the family. The one everyone loved to be around. He always used to say, \u201cbe the best person today and a better one tomorrow!\u201d. People loved that about him. But despite the love he had around me, I could never carry any for him. I hate him. I hate that man. I\u2019m glad-I\u2019m glad he\u2019s old and dead. I don\u2019t wanna call him that word. But that\u2019s what he is. He\u2019s an abuser. I can finally say it. Damn it feels so good to say it. He hurt me. He hurt me bad. In that bathroom where he unbuckled his belt haunts me forever. I didn\u2019t know what to think at seven years old. I just did what I was told so my parents wouldn\u2019t be mad. Now they don\u2019t have any reason to be mad. I never gave them one. And I can\u2019t go back to the bathroom to change what I did. I can\u2019t change how I feel now. Even when it feels wrong. I think about it a lot. Not what happened but what could happen with other people. I don\u2019t like boys. But, I do. \u201cDo you think you\u2019re gay?\u201d Ms. Miller\u2019s voice keeps replaying in my head even though she\u2019s right in front of me. Tobias, are you? Are you gay? I can\u2019t act like I don\u2019t want it, but with someone else. Someone that loves me. Maybe that\u2019s it. No one ever showed properly. But who will? Who will love me if I can\u2019t even love myself like this?<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m just scared of someone saying I\u2019m wrong.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I guess so\u201d.<\/span><\/p>\n

There was a long silence between the both of us. We were back to that silence that was here when I first entered the room. Ms. Miller looked at me with the same emotions I had on my face. We were both confused about what to say after. We were just both realizing something for the first time. It was new to us both. And because of that, I didn\u2019t feel alone. I felt like now she could make out the picture I was trying to paint for her this whole time.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs that bad, Ms. Miller? Does that make me a bad person?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ms. Miller sighed. \u201cNo, that makes the other person who says it\u2019s bad. That just makes you new. Not in a bad or a good way. Just the new you that should have unpackaged himself a long time ago.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The boxed room got a little brighter. The walls didn\u2019t seem to cave in anymore. The bottle cap was off. I looked at Dr. Miller and smiled at the thought that I could now, for real this time. My body was calm and my mind was quiet. I was floating without worry. That feeling I had when I first walked into this room was something I created to avoid speaking. The box I built around me was open, and it would stay open.<\/span><\/p>\n

___<\/span><\/p>\n

Collin Anderson Memorial Award, Honorable Mention<\/span><\/h3>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dancing on the Pavement<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

The ground is wet and hard. The cold air bounces off the ground and flows back into the grey uniform skirt that\u2019s ripped at the top. The rain is still pouring but everything is already underwater. This alleyway is small. Too small for someone to turn and come inside it. There\u2019s a locked grey gate at the end of it with three big black dumpsters across from each other. Garbage smell from the dumpsters seems to get in the way of the blood that\u2019s running down a stream coming from her skirt. A dim light flickers on the brick wall above the lifeless body on the pavement. It\u2019s bright enough to light the dark sky but not bright enough for anyone else to see it\u2019s shining on her. It could almost be like she\u2019s back on stage, dancing with her ballet shoes, training to audition for NYC Ballet when she graduates high school in three weeks. But instead, she\u2019s here, dancing with death on the pavement. And death is directing the performance.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her white uniform shirt is torn and unbuttoned all the way. It\u2019s got her school mascot, the green dragon, on it. Her name tag from Freddie\u2019s Diner is still pinned to it. She forgot to take it off after work. At least that\u2019s one thing that\u2019s still holding on. Everything else from her shirt to her socks is torn apart or missing. Her black bra is unhooked but her breasts are still covered. The ponytail in her hair no longer stands the way it did 23 minutes ago. It\u2019s been pulled off by hands that never touched her before. Her black flat shoes are on the other side of the alley walls. She spent the first seven minutes kicking but so hard that her shoes came off from hitting the pavement. Yet, she knows all of this and hasn’t moved.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her tights are ripped with two giant holes: one on her left knee and one where her underwear used to be. Her underwear is now three feet away from her where the dumpsters are. Her underwear is violet, her favorite color. Just like her name too. She could see that next to her right arm from where her student ID lays on the floor inside the wallet that\u2019s been searched through. She doesn\u2019t know if the $30 she had for her best friend Tammy\u2019s birthday cake she was supposed to buy is in there. Tammy\u2019s birthday celebration started 30 minutes ago. She was just running late from work.<\/span><\/p>\n

She doesn\u2019t know a lot of other things too. She doesn\u2019t know if the sky is bright or if she\u2019s just losing consciousness. She doesn\u2019t know if her cell phone is still in the black bookbag she had on her back when she was walking before. She doesn\u2019t know if her Mom will be worried she\u2019s still at work or if she\u2019s overworking herself before graduation. She doesn\u2019t know if her Dad came back home with the concert tickets he said he got for her and Tammy. She doesn\u2019t know if Tammy is mad at her or if she just thinks she\u2019s running late as usual. She doesn\u2019t know if Bryan will still want to take her on a date. She doesn\u2019t know if Bryan is mad at her for standing him up Saturday night. She doesn\u2019t know if he still wants to touch her since he never did. She doesn\u2019t know if anyone wants to after this. She doesn\u2019t know if NYC Ballet will accept her in this condition. She doesn\u2019t know why Freddie made her stay till 8 instead of 7 like he normally does. She doesn\u2019t know if this blood is hers or his. She doesn\u2019t know if anyone has noticed she\u2019s here. She doesn\u2019t know if anyone is looking for her. She doesn\u2019t know why he ran away. She doesn\u2019t know why he chose her. She doesn\u2019t know why this happened.<\/span><\/p>\n

The light flickering comes to a stop. The light bulb has no more room to shine the light on her. This performance is gonna come to an end soon if she doesn\u2019t get up and dance as she does on stage. The darkness suddenly wakes her up. Her eyes can open now. If it wasn\u2019t for the light turning off she would have never realized that that light was temporary and not something her spirit was seeing. She can see the brick wall in front of her. Her body is face down facing the right. Both of her arms lay flat on the pavement. She\u2019s taking her first real breath after trying for so long to find air. She\u2019s blinking and breathing. Her fingertips can move. Her legs can move. Her arms can move. Her head hurts but it can move. Her torso hurts but it can move. Almost everything hurts but she can still move.<\/span><\/p>\n

She pushes her arms to sit up. Her body feels heavier than it usually does. The blood from her lip is dripping now and leaves traces on her white uniform shirt. She moves herself to sit upon the brick wall. It feels colder than the pavement that she\u2019ll never forget the feeling of. Her heart is beating faster than it should. She\u2019s looking at the pitch-black wall across from her. There\u2019s no more light shining on her now. It\u2019s just her surrounded by darkness.<\/span><\/p>\n

The street isn\u2019t too far but she\u2019s too far from reality to come back to it. She can\u2019t hear anything. She can only hear screams that no one else heard. The sounds of her clothes ripping and the grunts he made are the only sounds that play in her head. She stays there and waits. Hoping that someone or something will take her away from all of this. She just closes her eyes instead. For as long as she can.<\/span><\/p>\n

But she can\u2019t wait. She can\u2019t stay here. Because there\u2019s a dog by the entrance of the alley barking at her now. A dog that might have an owner. Her eyes open. She looks to her left to see that dog is a pit bull that\u2019s white and brown. She doesn\u2019t know why he\u2019s barking. She doesn\u2019t know what she wants to do. She doesn\u2019t know if she wants to be saved.<\/span><\/p>\n

But she does know one thing. She knows she\u2019ll never forgive herself if she doesn\u2019t try to help and save herself. She knows that only she can do that. She knows that she can\u2019t find him if she doesn\u2019t find the strength to do something. She knows that she\u2019ll never look at her body the same. She knows that she might not ever let anyone touch her body like this again. She knows that the owner of the dog just approached it with a black collar in their hand. She knows that this dog owner is a woman now who’s tall and texting on the phone. She knows that this woman is the only person who can get her back on stage. She knows that she can say something. She knows that it might be the last bit of energy she has before the show is over.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

\"\"Keaona Gray-Outlaw<\/strong> is a professional writing major at SUNY Cortland. They\u00a0released their first self-published book \u201cShelter, Protection, and Unwatered Seeds\u201d and the\u00a0Crystallize Review\u00a0<\/i>is their first publications online. They are passionate about writing both poetry and fiction. They are captivated by work that instills purpose, creativity, and explores non-conforming ideas.<\/p>\n

Home<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Collin Anderson Memorial Award Winner Out of the Box \u201cOkay, let\u2019s start this over.\u201d The room is small, like the size of a box. It has four long beige walls, a desk, three chairs, and a lamp bright enough so you could see both of us. We sat a few feet apart. She was looking […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":130,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-765","page","type-page","status-publish","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/765","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/130"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=765"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/765\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.cortland.edu\/crystallize\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=765"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}