agency

Mary Ann Macham

| Sheree

Walking into North Shields the other day, walking towards the Fish Quay where there is now accessible access connecting the centre of town down to the River Tyne, I caught sight of this sculpture of Mary Ann Macham.

I first learned about Mary Ann in 2007, when I was researching the North-East’s involvement in the transatlantic slave trade to mark the bicentenary of its abolition.

I was writer in residence within the Literary and Philosophical society, researching their tracts and unearthing the names and lives of the once enslaved people who passed through and/or settled here.

I wrote a poem about Mary Ann, her escape and travel up to the North, and with the help of the Quakers, made a life for herself through working in service and getting married and living in North Shields. This was back in 1831 when she arrived here and lived for a further 60+ years as a free woman.

An aside here is how the Quakers at the forefront of the abolition movement here in the North- East, were against the slave trade and worked for the abolition but still held the racist beliefs of the day that white people were still superior to black people.

Mary Ann Macham told her story to a member of the Spence family, who she was in service to. There’s a lot that can be argued about the practice of black people, telling their stories to white people who wrote them down and how accurate these are as a true representation of their stories. But this is all we have now as ‘evidence’.

African Lives in Northern England completed research on Mary Ann Macham before this public statue and the local groups ‘found’ her.

I should be grateful and overjoyed that finally Mary Ann Macham is being remembered. That there is a public statue dedicated to her and that she is being reclaimed as part of the local community.

But something just doesn’t sit well with me. Maybe I’m being far too critical. Or maybe I’m just coming at it from a black woman’s point of view living within white supremacy culture?

The press releases for this unveiling of the statue in November 2025, proceed to paint the impression that Mary Ann Macham has just been discovered. That this was hidden history that the locals have just uncovered and became fascinated with and had to find out more about. But unknown to whom?

If they had done their research they would have seen and also acknowledged the work completed in the past to shine a light on Mary Ann. But the story goes that they have just discovered her story. Or decided to just focused on only part of her story/life? Mary Ann Macham ( later Blyth through marriage lived until she was 92 years old).

The local Sculptor Keith Barratt who created the piece has said to the local media that he wanted this sculpture to show that “she came from a place of great pain, but it’s also a story of human liberation, of breaking the chains and I feel that this is something universal that many people will understand”.

I suppose I have issue with how Mary Ann is framed within the story of her own life, which she doesn’t have control over maybe a bit then but definitely not now with how she is remembered.

I Love North Shields has more details about her life and attempts to create a bigger picture of her life before enslavement and after as a free woman living her life here in the north east. But frequently it has to be argued, the majority of time, Mary Ann is trapped within the ‘slave’ narrative perpetuated by white people. Although seeing her as ‘brave’ for plotting her escape, they still frame Mary Ann, tell her story within the role of once enslaved, and needing the help and support of kind Quakers. Sounds a lot like white saviorism. Then and now.

It’s almost like Mary Ann is stuck, encased in bronze, and barefoot to symbolise the condition of slavery. Enslavement she escaped from physically during her life, but trapped forever within this role in memorial because the white imagination cannot see/ grant Mary Ann her full humanity . The fullness of her life.

Time and time again, the mainstream constructs the stories they want to shed a light on and tell about people of the global majority which suits the narratives they’ve been running for centuries. The narratives where we don’t have agency or self-definition but are the objects, less than and victims. This is a means of control and domination.

This is why it’s important that we take every opportunity to tell our own stories. To control our own narratives. To leave these as archives for the people that come after we so they can be in no doubt that we lived big, beautiful, full lives on our own terms.

And is it me, or does the statue of Mary Ann Macham make her look like she’s white?

what can i do? what can i say?

| Sheree

Unconsciously I set myself the task of being creative everyday. A good way of marking this practice, was and still is, turning up here on this blog and posting something. Anything. A word, a quote, an image, an essay, an epiphany.

Some days, I’ve not had the time or energy or bandwidth to create anything, other days when I’ve felt this way, I’ve still turned up and done something. Anything. I’ve wanted to bring in some consistency within a world where consistency is irrelevant and pointless in the grand scheme of things. When the world is on fire, when Palestinians are dying of starvation and gunfire. When anti-immigration riots erupted once more in the UK. When tropical storms kill people in the Philippines. And when Syria returns to bloodshed. The list could go on of more countries and peoples around the world suffering at the hands of others, who do not see them as human or care about them.

I get sick of hearing the news. Watching the news. Seeing the headlines. I look away. I look away because I can and then chastise myself for dong so. There’s something in witnessing it all, even though it hurts my soul. What can I do? What can I say?

I get frustrated with all the hypocrisy I witness. The double standards. The lack of justice. People saying we’re doing this to them because we’ve been persecuted for so long so have a right, or are justified in persecuting other people now. I’m a white man and I rape women and children, but I’m protesting about (illegal) immigrants coming over here and raping our women and children. Everything is operating within this world to keep a few in power and wealth at the expense of other people deemed inferior and dispensable.

I hate hate. I can’t stand it. I see it in the screwed up faces of people hauling abuse at vulnerable people. It’s been there within the marrow of their bones for centuries. Grown white adults, hurling abuse at little black children. Not seeing them as children but as beasts, beasts to destroy. It breaks my heart and disgusts me, but what can I say? What can I do?

I can stop myself from feeing powerless. I can stop my handwringing, and getting frustrated with myself and use this energy otherwise. I can make art to bring about change. No matter how small that change, starting from myself and vibrating out.

I can create stories of an imagined alternative, better, other world. I can create zines which challenge and refuse what has already been refused of us. I can blog about my own experiences in order to connect with others. I can paint/ print posters to raise awareness and change the messages of hate to love and hope. I can create community and create change together, one stitch, one word, one voice at a time. I can create poetry to create conversation. I can self-care so I can in turn community-care. I can donate time, money, resources to a cause I believe in and that is bringing about a better society. I can lean more into mutual aid to divest from racial capitalism.

I can keep showing up here, craving out a safe and brave space on the internet that is liberatory worldmaking, on my own terms.

What is Creatrix?

| Sheree

When asked what I do, for a few years now I’ve replied by saying, ‘I’m Creatrix.‘

The bio I send out when requested reads as: “I’m Creatrix : she who makes, with a practice which manifests through poetry, storytelling, image and the unfolding histories of Black people. I engage audiences around Black women’s voices and bodies, black feminism, ecology and memory, nature and wellbeing, trauma and healing . I advocate for Black women’s voices, facilitating national and international creative workshops and retreats in the landscape, encouraging and supporting women on their journey of remembrance back to their bodies and authentic selves.”

But what does ‘Creatrix’ mean as it’s not a term that is in wide circulation? I know when I use it, it raises questions in others. Some are brave enough to ask what does mean, while others are happy the remain in ignorance and apply whatever labels to me they wish.

Creatrix: she who makes is what I call myself because the labels that others have put on me, or even as I’ve tried to define myself in the past, are just not good enough, or expansive enough. I’m more than just a writer, or artist, facilitator or teacher. I’m so much more than what I do in the world or produce. I’m more so interested in the person I am, who I be.

Creatrix originally is defined as a writer, an authoress. Therefore female. But now, the term Creatrix has come to mean, for me, anything that and anyone who is creative. My whole life is a creation, and so is yours. How I express my creativity is multifaceted and diverse. Yes I show up at the page to visual journal every day, but I’m also creative when I decide how I’m going to spend my time each day, what I wear, what I eat, and how I show up in the world.

Creativity is not the exclusive realm of writers, artists or musicians or dancers. I believe that everyone is creative but due to the society and culture we live in we are socialised into repressing it, conditioned into devaluing our natural, innate creativity and in the process move further away from our true selves. Being creative, consciously creative is being in communion with the Self, again another practice which is not really valued or taught within this culture ( white supremacy culture, I’ll add).

Me using and adopting Creatrix to describe myself to others is me reclaiming agency, it’s taking back control and power over how I’m defined, labeled or seen by others. I’m a person made up of many parts, personalities and responsibilities, skills and capabilities. And I bring them all to every situation/experiences/ activity I partake in. I attempt to be whole. I’m becoming whole.

Showing up more and more whole, more and more in my own power and authenticity is a practice. Being creative is a practice. It’s my constant reminder of who I be, not what I do, but who I be.

“A Creatrix is not simply a performer or entertainer – though these are the elements of what she does – she is a dedicated shaper of consciousness and energy, a culture weaver, a dreamer and midwife of new worlds. She is an asker of uncomfortable questions and a liver of taboos.” Creatrix: she who makes by Lucy H Pearce