Resistance, Steve McQueen, National Galleries of Scotland, 2025
the undercurrent has always been present, simmering like lava just below the surface ready to rise up at weak points, at moment of disarray and hopelessness. hate shimmers like jewels to those who have little but promised more. clinging to the sharp edges of hate because it’s something to feel, to use as a weapon against others instead of the self. hate with fear, a lethal concoction corroding within as well as without.
1936. October. With a chill in the air, the blackshirts ruffled through the East End of London, snaking their territory, their Ayran rights. With Police fronting, they still couldn’t take the streets. Jews, Irish, Communists, Blacks, Labour activists, workers unite. Stand firm. Shoulder to shoulder, they shall not pass. Blackshirts, angry scrunched up faces, hearts riddled with hate and fear, shall not pass.
Summer Solstice came and gone. I had plans to hit the sea at sunrise, but didn’t make it because I had a restless night what with the heat and house and car alarms going off during the night? Are they sensitive to the heat? I do not know. I thought I was trapped in some kind of twilight zone with the incessant calling alarms and no one moving to switch them off. But I digress. maybe I’m just sensitive to senseless noise!
Mid-year reflections. What can I say? I’m not getting anywhere fast and I’m okay with that.
I FaceTimed with a very dear friend many miles away today and she asked and what’s happening with me. What’s happening in Sheree World?
At first I felt I needed to fill in the gaps with some of this shit and that. Or I’ve been asked to do this shit and that? That I had to show I was hustling and beating the grind real good. But shit ain’t happening in Sheree World and in all honesty I’m happy about that.
I hibernated well into April this year what with going to Paris and celebrating my babies’ birthdays. By the time I came out of my cave, everyone was well into their year, well into 2025. And I could do one of two things ( probably other things too but focusing on just the two for now!).
I could drop everything my heart desired and focused on catching up with everyone else. Max out my diary with jobs and commitments and watch the money roll in.
Or two, I could, continue to roll out of my SheCave slowly and mindfully, carefully and with a whole heap of love and grace for myself and just take things on a day to day basis. No rush no sense of urgency and definitely no panicking.
Which option do you think I chose to follow?
I’m not even sure it was a viable choice because I’m so used to practicing Slow Fugitivity now that it’s the only way I can operate and keep myself sane, safe and thriving.
I’m not measuring my success by how much my bank balance is telling me or more like alerting me to. I’m not measuring my success by how many people are singing my praises. By how many people have my name on this lips and are ready and willing to work with me. Promote me, award me, accept me.
I’m measuring my success on how good I feel moment to moment. How much joy and love am I feeling now? How much care am I giving to my self and those around me? How much am I showing up into situations, gatherings and meetings as myself? Transparent, honest, earnest and hopeful?
How much am I being open hearted, loved, loveable and loving towards myself and those around me?
This is my measure of success.
I’m not turning away from all the shit and cruelty and destruction that is happening around me and in this world. I’m feeling it for the people who are getting caught in the middle of men with big egos who are playing at being leaders and pretending to protect their people. I know what is happening in the name of religion, or history or land and justice. I’m listening and seeing genocide after genocide happening and those responsible not being held to account. I see it and feel it and I want to do more to stop it, to fight against it. So trust me when I say, I do not turn away or ignore it when I choose joy and care and love as my weapons of choice. I’m not living in a fantasy land of all happy happy joy Joy. I’m not being naive or flippant.
I’m choosing to refuse the stories we are being told. I’m refusing to perpetuate the capitalist structures and feed into the patriarchy and imperialist tendencies. I’m choosing to refuse the roles assigned to me as a black woman as just another body to be used and abused and disposed of after I’m no longer useful.
Fuck that fuckery.
So mid-year reflection is that:
* I’ve got no regular working gig on the horizon.
* I’m searching for my tribe.
* I’m dreaming of other possibilities, another way of being.
* I’m refusing the shit sandwich that is offer me again and again.
* I’m refusing what has already been refused of me.
* I’m creating spaces for creative fugitivity.
* I’m creating gaps or breaks in the capitalist dome from which we can break free into the land of possibilities filled with imagination and play.
* I’m embracing craftivism. My word are my weapons. Always have been, always will be.
* I’m lingering in the midst of flight.
* I’m taking MY TIME to stretch OUT my tired limbs. Limbs reaching for the sky, eyes focused on the stars above as I’m breathing deeply, and allowing my deep belly laugh to roll out over the landscape as I pick a rhythm to my own beat and I’m shaking shake shake shaking OUT by big beautiful black behind.
Come join me if you dare. Make sure to bring a plate of food and story to tell as we gonna be gathering around the fire soon to build a free community, or as my dear friend Dal was saying just the other day, build a village. Yes thank you, indeedy!
Let’s get to shaking, shake shake, shaking this shit up!
when archie rowe asked me out in middle school, he wanted us to keep our courtship a secret. we met behind the garages, through the school yard. he kissed me & played with my tits. [did i just use the word tits? there i’ve done it again] tits. i was well developed for me age. full blown blossomed boobies. boys will be boys. behind the garages, sprigs of pussy willow wept. shhh it’s his secret. too ashamed to be seen with a Blackgirlwoman.
*taken from a longer piece called, ‘Playing Palimpsest’, which appears in my full collection Darkling.
After a busy week so far, my body is calling for the easy days of summer. Summer reading is usually how I get to slow down. I’ve got nothing major planned for the summer months. Usually we go down south and house and dog sit. But this year I needed a change.
I’m not sure what that is at the moment. The change I’m looking for. But I’m looking forward to putting up my email message of being off the clock for summer. I’ve started a countdown to that time in my head now.
Call it the teacher still in me but I love my six weeks( or more) summer holidays. So I’ve started the slowdown with reading short stories. A quick and easy way to get back into the reading habit. As well as introduce me to new writers. Read the first two this morning as part of my morning routine. And continue to read The Moor throughout this week.
I’ve swept my back yard, and I’m going to spend more and more time out there, reading and dreaming as I want to start growing stuff back there. But first I need to get to know the space. Spend some time there instead one just passing through.
I’m so looking forward to being off the clock and lazing. Trying to complete my chapter on black mothering and fugitivity after requesting an extension. Nearly there. I’ve got to the first of July and then I can relax and start dropping commitments outside the home, work and responsibilities and just go feral for a while. Yes!
When I know I have a busy day, in commitment to others and outside the home, I make sure I claim back my time. I get up early and feed my pot first. I prioritise me.
This morning saw me up at 6am and out, down to the sea.
It was so beautiful this morning, with a slice of lemon on the horizon. I knew I’d made the right decision to get up and out, while the rest of the world was sleeping.
And of course I had to get in. June and the water is still cold. So it woke me up, job done. But it also calmed and focused the mind. When I’m with the sea, I can do anything. Nothing is an issue or a problem. It’s just gravy.
Once out of her embrace, I took to walking along the front, continuing my ultramarathon training, increasing my time on my feet each day.
Now home and completing my visual journaling over coffee. I’m satisfied. I know I’ve given myself the time to ease into the world on my own terms. This means I’m a happy bunny and for the rest of the day, I’ll be basking in this joyful light.
I went out walking this evening. After I stuffed my face and got settled down to watch some ultramarathon training videos on YouTube, I thought it would be more benefit to my body to get out and move her.
I tried an ultramarathon last year along the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path. I didn’t complete it because I ran out of time. I was just too slow to complete the 50k / 31 miles within the official timeframe. But I had a grand day out. It was glorious; the weather, the path, the sights and movement. I really enjoyed my day and I wasn’t too fussed about not completing it. I
knew I would try again.
And so it happened. I’d reached out to Into Ultra a couple of years ago for support for getting into ultra. I thought if not just advise then maybe some help financially with the kit and stuff. It hasn’t really happened till now.
They sent around an email offering free places in races coming up this year. And one took my fancy. SheRaces Trail Series Peak District 50K. There’s a 25K also which I know I can complete but it wouldn’t be as much as a challenge as the 50K.
A couple of days ago running coach Hannah Walsh shared a great Instagram post highlighting that just 0.007% of people have run an ultramarathon, and of these 0.0001% are women. That’s a really small number.
I like the idea of being able to complete an ultramarathon. I’ve completed 4 marathons, the last one being 2022 in Loch Ness.
To be amongst that small percentage of people, never mind women, never mind black women, who have ‘run’ an ultramarathon, is something to aim for.
And of course I’m not going to run it. I will run walk crawl as per usual. But this time, I know what to expect in terms of the pain, the terrain, the challenge, and toll it takes on the body.
I’m in training now. And there’s never enough time to get to my peak. But what is my peak? I’m an aging overweight black woman, but I’ve never felt more like myself and operating on my own terms. So that’s peak for me!
So this is as good a time as ever to give this ultra malarkey another try.
Consistency breeds confidence. This is my mantra. Consistency breeds confidence.
So as long as I get out walking each day build up the time I spend on my feet, I’ll be grand. And whatever else happens, it will be a grand day out!
Saturday 2nd August is the date of the gathering in the Peak District. You’re more than welcome to join me. Cheer me on. Supply the water and midget gems if you want!
Living Wild Studios 