More than a magazine: The living legend of flux

In 1996, we followed one woman’s journey through sex work and the toll that came with it. In 2007, we uncovered hostility toward veterans seeking education. And in 2012, we were on-site with firefighters as they jumped out of airplanes.

Ambitious storytelling has always been at the heart of FLUX. 

Each year, the publication begins with nearly 300 pitches, each one offering a glimpse into the human experience. From that pool, only about ten stories are chosen, carefully selected and refined to fit the issue’s central theme.

2024 Editor-in-chief Johhny Media, speaks of his experience going through the pitching process. 

“I think what I was looking for honestly was stories that were unique and that I hadn’t seen in other magazines or on the internet, so that it was fresh and new.”

Throughout the years, FLUX remains authentic. Every issue feels different, shifting in tone, topic and voice. 

While every edition reflects the year it was created, the stories within FLUX often feel like they could belong to any moment. They don’t just report. They resonate. To read FLUX is to see the world through someone else’s eyes, to connect, reflect, and remember what it means to be human.

Is it just a college magazine? Alumni writers? There’s no clear purpose, thesis, or conclusion. Just timeless stories: raw, organic, and authentic. 

Across the decades, stories like these have defined the ethos of FLUX:

1999 edition, seven men take the risk of their lives in search of a better one.

2003 edition, The local HIV Alliance led by Sharon Chamberlain exchanged used needles of 

drug addicts for clean ones in an attempt to slow the spread of bloodborne illness. 

2019 edition, three women, once silenced by shame and the weight of rape culture, now speak their truth, reclaiming their stories as survivors.

“Emergency Exit” by Kim Wallace is a story from the 1999 issue that recounts the daring escape of 7 young Hungarians from Communist Hungary in 1956. 

For context, in the 1950s, Hungary had strict restrictions on movement, oppressive labor mandates and a secret police (AVO), which instilled fear and paranoia. Life in Hungary under totalitarian communist rule was a designed hell: Many people faced extreme poverty, forced labor, constant surveillance and cruel punishment for speaking out. 

The escape was led by Geore Polyak, where they ultimately hijacked a domestic flight and flew it across the Iron Curtain into West Germany. The coordination and planning in this hijack was no simple feat, as they were under constant fear of discovery from Hungarian secret police and military radar. 

The hijacking culminated into a chaotic mid-air struggle, with Polyak taking control of the cockpit after subduing the secret policeman and crew. The group was able to successfully land the plan into West Germany after severe turbulence and injuries. Their risk taking translated into their freedom, and ultimately inspired others desperate to leave Communist regime. 

“Emergency Exit” highlights the extreme cases of human struggle, and how one group’s notion of  sacrifice ignited optimism for those in desperation for a better life.

“The Needle Trade” by Georgia Billingsley II is a 2003 story that covers the HIV Alliance led by Sharon Chamberlain and their fight against bloodborne illness. The early 2000s were a key period in the rise of opioid use and needle-related drug practices. Due to the rise of intravenous or IV drug use, programs like needle trades and the HIV Alliance were necessary to slow and prevent spread of bloodborne illness. “The Needle Trade” also recounts Shanon’s personal tales of drug use. The HIV Alliance is even bigger today than it used to be; they continue to operate syringe exchange services across multiple locations, including Eugene, Springfield and Roseburg. The program not only offers sterile syringes but also provides safer injection kits, wound care, and overdose prevention kits. 

The opioid crisis continues to affect communities nationwide, with synthetic opioids like fentanyl worsening the risk of overdose and infection. Programs like the HIV Alliance not only save lives but also reduce the burden on healthcare systems and offer a pathway to recovery for individuals struggling with addiction. The continued relevance of this work shows that harm reduction remains a critical and compassionate public health approach. 

“Reclaiming Life in Color” by Emma Wolf, from the 2019 edition, follows three University of Oregon students — Kaela, Emma and Abbie — who despite being unique in personalities and interest, share a common experience: being survivors of sexual assault.

The story explores how the young women struggled with feelings of shame, often fueled by society's victim-blaming mindset and their own self-doubt. The story highlights how they processed their trauma, and challenges the term "victim" and turns it into "survivor". 

Six years have passed since these voices were first published, but the world they describe hasn’t changed. The setting may be the University of Oregon, but the experiences echo far beyond it. There’s no headline to chase, no giant movement, just the quiet perseverance of a reality too familiar to too many.

These stories of courage, perseverance and reclamation didn’t fade throughout time. They linger. The magazines get picked up again and again, and these stories are revisited, reshared and remembered. FLUX is relentless in its pursuit of truth in the moment — uncompromised and no filter. 

FLUX does not shy away from the heavy, the ugly and the real. It leans into the discomfort, into the complexity that is life. Whether that means following migrants on a dangerous journey, confronting the ugly realities of addiction, or providing a voice to survivors. 

Each issue is brought to life by the writers, photographers, editors, and designers who craft it. But it’s shaped by the people whose stories it tells. Throughout the process, our storytellers remember: the power of a story lies in the voice behind it.

That’s what makes FLUX timeless. Not the consistency of publishing, but the courage the stories carry. As FLUX embraces the raw and the real, it becomes more than a magazine on a stack of shelves in the SOJC, it becomes a living archive of what it means to be truly human.