A fellow creative called out for submissions for a collaborative, community zine while she took compassionate leave after a death in her family.
Sarah Shott @ The Compost Heap made the call and I answered with a poem. The theme was hope.
You can read the full version over on Sarah’s website.
My contribution is above along with artwork from Nicole Madonna (Pennsylvania, USA)
Enjoy.
It’s time. Time to be looking down at the ground and seeing the trees’ bounty around my toes.
I love this view.
liminality
in-between spaces
lingering in the midst flight
fugitivity
nowhere at all
the potential of edges
black captives trapped at sea
zones of non-being
“Wherever blackness dwells—slave ship, spaceship, graveyard, garden, elsewhere, everywhere—those captives accessed what Spillers calls a “richness of possibility.” Hortense Spillers quoted in La Marr Jurelle Bruce, How To Go Mad Without Losing Your Mind: Madness and Black Radical Creativity.
This is what I love.
My camera is my eye. It helps me see what I see better.
My camera helps me to appreciate what I love. Nature.
My photography is an archive and a mediation. It slows me down.
Going out and taking pictures brings me joy.
I’m intrigued my Mother Nature’s expressions. And my camera helps me to take the time with her.
I do not create for an algorithm. I do not create for likes and approval.
I create for me. I create for joy.
Me sharing my creations is like a ‘show and tell’. Look this is what I love.
retro disco. good tunes. way back to our youth. we’re dancing. enjoying the tuuuunnnnneeees.
i kick off my shoes. barefoot in the grass. the cold september grass.
i look around. blond woman staring. pointing at me. talking to her man. me and my bare feet. laughing. i know she’s not saying anything good about me.
i stare back. she sees i see her. she tries to cover her tracks. too late. bitch. i see you.
before. i’d smile. make it appear as all is well. while i bleed from another wound inside.
before. i’d smile. make her feel better. while i die another death inside.
tonight. i ain’t smiling. i give her cut eye. i stare her down. she looks away first.
i continue to dance barefoot. smiling inside.
i’m protecting my peace so i have the energy for me, to {BE} in service for we, the we that looks/{BE} like me
this is all becoming clearer now
i’m not expending or wasting any more time, energy, attention on those (white) people who do not see me. or when they do see me, they do not see me as human
as Akwugo Emejulu says, the black woman can never be a human being
for decades i’ve spent time, energy, attention, through my practice and day to day life, trying to convince others ( white people) of my humanity. i would bend over backwards trying to get accepted, recognised, cherished as a fellow human being
look, please, i’m human. look, please, i feel, i hurt, i bleed. i breathe
no more. i am no longer prepared to play that role. dance this stupid dance. as i will never be accepted, recognised, loved as a human being. the system won’t allow it. (white) people won’t allow it
i’m no longer wasting my energy on proving jackshit
i’m refusing what has already been refused of me ( fugitivity)
i knowing who i be. i am smart, i am kind, i am important ( The Help). and i don’t need/want/entertain any (white) person to tell/grant/recognise me as such
and i’m no longer apologising/ playing it down or safe/ tempering for how i feel/act/ {BE} about this situation
as that just expends/takes/sucks out of me a whole heap and of other energy
i ain’t smiling.
As the wind rocks us, and the rain soothes us, Kiwi and I enjoy a little excursion.
Hardly little when we drove from our home to Portsmouth and then to Lymington to catch the ferry to the Isle of Wight.
I came here once before with my mum when I was in middle school I think. Or maybe high school. We brought my friend Judith too.
We stayed in a B & B and went to the beach everyday. It was gorgeous. Now looking back, it seems weird going away on holiday with a school friend. But that’s what we’d do back then.
I say weird, but here I am away with my Uni friend Alex and his partner. So go figure.
It’s forecast wind for the weekend and showers. So let’s see how it goes. I’m not complaining because I’m mighty cosy inside Kiwi.
I’m slowing all the way down. Appreciating the time and space, dropping out of time and space for a little while. I’m taking to {BEING} this more and more these days. Figuring out that rest, slow and {BEING} on my own terms is all I ever want in this life.
And I’m not going to given this. I have to take it.
I’ve been in a battle with myself.
The lessons I try and pass on to my kids are not to allow anyone else to change you. You go about your business as yourself. Don’t change for nobody.
I’ve been in a battle with myself.
I know my nature. I smile a lot. I lean into the joy of life because I’ve always said life is too short after being touched by death so young ( I now think life is long but that’s another conversation).
I’ve been in a battle with myself.
I’ve noticed I’m walking out now and not smiling. To myself or others. My face is fixed in a neutral stare, going about my business. I don’t not need/ want to look, speak or touch anyone else.
I’ve been in a battle with myself.
Is it my nature to smile and make contact with other (white) people because that’s who I am? Or do I do it to make them feel comfortable and not to think I’m a threat to their safety? Do I smile because I’m happy? Or do I smile to keep others happy?
I’ve been in a battle with myself.
Through speaking with a ( black female) friend recently things have become clearer and more resolute.
i ain’t smiling.
Not smiling, gazing or connection with (white) people while out walking/ coffee drinking/ shopping/whatever, is me, protecting my peace.
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