We’ve got a Patreon Page

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I just send out a Studio Note this afternoon. And I’m sharing it here too as it has important information about my new creation; a Patreon Page.

Hello Dear One
I hope you are well.
We’ve been hit by another cold spell here’s in the UK, so I’m hygge-ing to the max; under throws, in my onesie with steaming coffee beside me. I’m also fighting an eye infection which is really painful as well reducing my vision.
I think I’ve been impatient to see into my future, rushing things when maybe I should be slowing down. So I have no choice now.
I’ve been reading Louise DeSalvo’s, ‘The Art of Slow Writing’ and something just clicked. I love writing on social media and sharing my creations, thoughts and feelings but sometimes it can be a distraction from the big work. Posting there is no substitute for getting out the stories I have within me and the stories I want to explore about black women’s bodies today, in society, as well in the past.
I want to change my practice. And it’s starts by taking back my time, to slow down my writing, learning my craft, and working hard to make sure every word carries meaning, carries worth and speaks from my heart and soul.I want my writing to bring about change. This is my way of being active within the struggle. Using my creativity. This is a revolutionary process. And I need your help.
Patreon is a platform that makes it easy for creatives to get paid. You pledge to support a creative through a one off payment or a monthly payment and through the process you get exclusive content and rewards.

Why do I need your support?

Your support will help me slow down my writing process but also help me write more. I know, a bit of a contradiction.
But this is how it will work for me.
Your support means that I have you watching. You are my motivation to write the truth, from a place of truth. With your support, there is no way I can make mistakes, slip up or drop the ball. You keep me accountable. You make an investment in my time and I have to deliver. For this I am deeply grateful.

On Patreon I will be sharing the process as well as the end products. I will be sharing the intimate aspects of my working processes. I will be learning along the way about myself, my craft, the world, the issues and I can’t help but share these breakthroughs as it’s part of my nature. To have you along for the ride means you are helping carry the load. You being there too eases the pressures on me, leaving more time and energy for me to create.

Is that you?

Please don’t worry if it’s not. As well as if you’re not able to support me financially at this time.

If you can, go check out my Patreon Page and see what rewards you can benefit from through sponsoring me. One-off contributions start from only $1, while monthly contribution start from only $3.
By all means, hit reply also if you have any questions or anything needs clarifying. I so look forward to seeing you over on Patreon.
Thanks for listening.
Until next time
Love
Sheree”

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Getting Angry

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Last night I got angry and I mean really angry. I think I might have scared @hazmatt72.

This was a different anger to any I’ve experienced before. No I tell a lie. I think I might have had a glimmer of this deep visceral anger back in 2014 when I was organising #blacklivesmatter events and I was finding my political voice and going public with my thoughts about race.

And then I was silenced and all that anger turned inward. Turned against myself and how stupid I’d been and the mistakes I made. Anger turned up so high that I almost didn’t hear the whisper of self-compassion, forgiveness and love.

Fast forward to last night, the anger has shifted from focusing on myself to sending fierce fire balls out there.

I recently became a member of @secretmessagesociety ( or am I supposed to keep it a secret?!?) and my first Zine talked about developing a back bone. To start putting myself at the centre of my life and everything/ everyone else out there, outside of me is ‘the other’.

At the mention of ‘the other’ I had a gut reaction. A recoiling. As a black woman in colonial, imperial, patriarchal, hey (wo)man, in any kind of discourse, I ‘m labelled/ perceived/ treated as ‘the other’. And even though I have argued against this, this didn’t stop me internalising it. Taking on the label myself and seeing myself as ‘the other’ in comparison to the white norm.

Coming across ‘the other’ @secretmessagesociety, something shifted and was dislodged to the point that I’ve de-centred my whole belief, operating system. I no longer claim ‘the other’ as me, my label, my positioning out there and within me.
No. I’m right bang centre in my life, in my identity and everything outside of me is ‘the other.’ I’m no longer kept in the margins, the minority, the freak, the fat ugly black bitch, the deformed, the other.
I’m so gloriously centred with me/ within me.

And I’m angry. But a shimmering healthy get things sorted, changed sort of angry. Which always flows from love. #iaintsorry #hellno #fuckem #angryblackwoman #othering #decentre #takingbackwhatsmine #practice #process #patience #self-love #self-care #secretmessagesociety #gettingmesomebackbone

#sheofthewildwrites – hair

Day 7 – my hair feels like

:: A black woman’s body was never hers alone::
Fannie Lou Hamer

Is your hair real? she asks. I sit next to her on the stationary bikes.
Sweating.

I’ve seen them doing that kind of thing along the beach in Jamaica.
I say nothing.

Not to people like you but tourists. You know they pay for it.
I stare forward peddle faster.

Obviously, she’s an older woman who likes to talk. Maybe
the gym is a social occasion for her. I try not to judge.

Did it take a while for you to get it done?
I want to tell her that this is my hair. All my own hair.

Do you wash it?
Really, lady? You’re asking me if I wash my hair?

I want to ask her would she ask
the same questions to a white woman?

I focus on my reflection, and then catch her moving in.
Oh can I touch it?

No! You can’t. I find my voice.
She looks outraged and confused. But why?

Seriously?
I want to say

because I’m not an animal in a zoo
because I’m not your property
because this is my body.

But I say nothing. I move away and if anyone’s
watching it looks like I’m being rude.

#dreadscapes #blackwomensbodies #canitouchit #selflove

red

For me, at the moment, red signifies anger. There’s a fire burning in my belly, it’s been stoked by my time away at Shifting Loyalties this last week.

My forthcoming e-book with Culture Matters is an exploration of this anger. My anger at how black Woman are treated in society. How we end up at the bottom of the pile in terms of being treated with decency, respect and love.

This piece is part of this collection.

‘Death by persons unknown’

Pain provides the common language of humanity; it extends humanity to the dispossessed and, in turn, remedies the indifference of the callous.
– Saidiya V. Hartman

(Picture the scene).
It’s a Sunday afternoon
& the bees are busy hovering
around blousy peonies,
at a church picnic.
The crowd moves in closer as the fire’s lit.
(Look at them gathering, working up a sweat, working up a frenzy as the barbecue takes hold).
They linger in the smell of flesh,
in the smell of blood.
The only shade is thrown by the kill;
the swinging charred remains of a black body.
(Try to shift your gaze).
From the hanging meat to the sea of red-faced, smiling white people hungry for violence fed on a diet of hate for generations.
There’ll be a photograph produced of this social ritual. You might receive a postcard making
the past very present.
& if you’re feeling it,
it could burn a hole in your heart.