self-love

The Sinners Series – 005

| Sheree

With it being awards season and all, I felt called to watch Sinners again. This might have been my fifth or sixth time. I’m sorry, I’ve lost count. It still hasn’t lost its magic. The film just keeps on giving for me. To me.

This time, I’m struck by how many times freedom is mentioned. How to get free? How to be free? How to protect that freedom?

I think Sinners explores the price of freedom. The price of being free. There’s always a cost for attempting to live life on your own terms.

From the beginning, we might be introduced to sharecroppers, working for the white men, still on plantations. But this will be a self-sustaining community. More than bodies for working on the farms, the land they do not own. But they have each other. Each character is developed at the beginning of the film. The viewer is allowed to get to know them and see them in their element. They be vibrant and they be fixing to be free. Free from the restrictions of white supremacy culture, capitalism, patriarchy the whole shebang. And this isn’t without pain but also joy and laugher and love.

Sinners is what happens when a community, when people are living their own lives and are infiltrated by others, who want what they have. Outside threats come to ruin the day. Vampires come and covet what this community has. Sammie. Sammie has a gift, the gift of music that connects him with all ages. Griot.

Delta Slim’s says, “With this here ritual, we heal our people. And we be free.” This is the power of music and how a community can tell their stories through music. And outside forces, in this case vampires, who hear, see, realise this power, are threatened by it as well as want it. Want to control it take it away from this black community who are gain strength and sustainance through it all. And be free.

Sammie’s gift, the music, the very culture needs to be/ has to be protected from these outside threats at all costs. As culture, its very existence is threatened from being sucked dry by the devils coming tonight.

So as a people, as black people, we do whatever we can do to tell our own stories, protect and preserve our music, our culture as through this we heal. And we be free.

A Black WOmen’s Creative Retreat

| Sheree

I’m remembering the summer as well as archiving the events that went down @Earth Sea Love.

In August we managed to pull off a black women’s creative retreat. A weekend of creative camping in the middle of a forest. We cooked, and created, shared stories and slept under the stars. It was a magical time as we stepped out of time, to steal our lives back on our own terms. We laughed and cried and sang and walked and reconnected with ourselves, each other and nature.

I’ve just spent some time, updating the Earth Sea Love website with some events that took place over the summer, this retreat included because it’s important to have a record, an archives of these happenings. My heart and body remembers these days, these events because they have a profound effect on my {BEING}. Events like these reinforces everything that I {BE} and do for myself and others. And it is finding those ways of getting free, more often and for longer stretches of time.

This image above is of Pauline Mayers, one of the women to come on the retreat. And as you can see from her facial expression, and the sheer glow coming off her being, we had fun out there in nature together.

I’m now fixing to create more opportunities like this one. It was a dream come true, a dream started in a visual journal spread one day a few years ago. And who says dreams don’t come true. All you have to do is believe. Believe in yourself and the community around you and all will come to fruition.

To the sea she goes

| Sheree

Spur of the moment dip. Good job I’m always prepared like a good Brownie. Kit always in the boot of the car. No neoprene gloves or boots just a swimsuit and bobbled hat. Looking good.

Feeling good!

today’s ponderings while lying on the couch …

| Sheree

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.

return, remember, reset

| Sheree

I’ve not been into the sea since the beginning of July. I’ve been staying away, allowing my tooth extraction wound to heal. I didn’t want to get it infected, further or again.

I have missed her, no doubt. I woke early and didn’t give it a second thought. I had the time, the energy and means to get on down there and get in.

It was like starting all over again. The pain of the cold was something I’d forgotten but soon remembered as I inched my way in, allowing the water to seep further and further up my body.

It was worth the pain. It’s always worth the pain.

I feel at peace now as I warm up and give thanks to myself and nature for allowing me this time and space to just {BE}.

continuing to live and learn

| Sheree
Studio Practice Journal, 2023-4

“On the afternoon of May 16, 2020, about a week before George Floyd was killed by the police, twenty-one-year-old Tye Anders was accused by the Midland, Texas, police of running a stop sign. He pulled over in front of his ninety-year-old grandmother’s house.”

Excerpt From
We Refuse
Kellie Carter Jackson

There’s Anders pleading for his life. There’s many policemen with guns drawn pointed at him and there’s bystanders filming it all. One woman who’s filming this is also pleading for the police to not shot Anders saying he’s scared. Hasn’t there been enough killing of unarmed black people, killed just because of the colour of their skin?

Still no guns are lowered and Anders is on the ground clearly empty handed but the situation is just escalating as the police continue to train their guns on his body.

Anders’ ninety-years-old grandmother steps out of her house praying. With cane in hand she walks towards her grandson even though guns are trained in her direction.

There was still panic still bystanders screaming for the police to put their guns up. Some do but still one cop is walking towards Anders with his gun raised. Trying to move and push her out of the way, his grandmother doesn’t believe that her grandson won’t still be shot so she falls onto her grandson, protecting his body with her own body. Not longer after this with the police and crowd pushing and pulsating around her , she loses consciousness.

Anders is arrested for fleeing the police. His grandmother is taken to hospital.

Reading this story this morning made me cry. Not because of the police brutality or the disregard for human life, black life. But because of what the grandmother in the story did. She’s ninety-years-old, frail and only has her prays and body, but used both in protection, in an act of love.

“Her collapse was not a coincidence. Protection is powerful, beautiful, and sacrificial because protection is love. But she should not have needed to put her body between the police and her grandson to protect him.”

Excerpt From
We Refuse
Kellie Carter Jackson.

Protection. She should not have needed to, but she did put her body between the police and grandson to protect him. This act of courage broke my heart this morning. Had me weeping. Maybe it was the last straw that pushed me over the edge into the breakdown. Maybe it was my imagination seeing this playing out.

Maybe I’m just sick and tired of living in a world where white violence is justified and black violence is really self-defence but is never judged that way.

I’ve always been a supporter of care work but even more so now. As care work, along with rest are forms of protection. Through the way I {BE} with myself and others, and the work that I do for self and others, I’m tending daily to the mental, emotional, and physical needs and health of black people, so we are better equipped to survive and thrive within a hostile, brutal, grinning world.