fugitivity

Satda Planning and Dreaming

| Sheree
Strategy for Fugitivity Retreat

After a busy week of being here there bad everywhere, I come to the page after my Satda Permaculture Gathering.

I’m planning out my workshop for my fugitivity visual journaling retreat with WOC Azadi Collective tomorrow. And I’m excited but also apprehensive. I had so much I want to share but I don’t want to spend all our time together talking. I don’t want to lecture to the participants but I get so excited when I’m sharing anything visual journaling and fugitivity. For me they go hand in hand.

I’m also worried that the participants might not get what I’m on about. I’m not sure sometimes. What I’m doing? What I mean when I practice fugitivity?

I suppose I won’t know until I put words to the air and attempt to communicate these liberatory practices.

What I’m reading

| Sheree

I was reminded that I had this book in my stash while listening to Marquis Bey talk on an episode of This Is Hell!, titled ‘ To steal one’s life back: On the power of fugitive Blackness’

It made me run straight to the book and start reading it with the hope it will support my fugitivity practice as well as provide some juicy quotes for the workshop I’m facilitating with WOC Azadi Collective this Sunday about my fugitivity and visual journaling practices.

It’s all sold out but you can read about it here and get in touch if you’re interested in coming along to some other sessions in 2026.

#decemeberreflections2025

Fugitivity Study

| Sheree
Patreon Post

I love me a good crime novel. Or even a romance. I’ve loved them from time. I’ve used them as escape, distraction, research even as I’ve always harboured desires to write them. I’ve been on a reading spree this autumn and these genres of fiction have been my go to. Devouring them in a matter of days.
Now I see how I’ve been checking out. I’m not dissing the genres, the writing, the individual books. But I am dissing their intention. Yes they’re for escape but they are also there along with consumerism and mainstream media to numb us. To help us stay muddled in thought and actions, propping up the racial capitalist system.
I’m taking back my time and attention and I’m starting my personal study curriculum.

Continued over on Patreon, check it out

Daily walk/008

| Sheree

Unto the deep, the deepness of calling

stepping out as a battered sojourner,

into the beauty and stillness of autumn,

strength comes from struggle and speaking the uncomfortable.

Anger but also grace in the refusal.

I refuse to allow you to suck me dry and believe you’re doing me a favour

| Sheree

I’m trying here. Really trying to look after myself. To rest when I need to. To eat well. To move my body. To protect my mind, body and soul. To make a way out of nothing. Protect my energy. From what I hear you say?

Vampires. Blood fucking sucking vampires. I’m not referring to the Count here. I’m referring to those people who treat others like a puppet or pawn ( insert whiteness/ white people here).

All paternalistic, thinking they’re doing me some kind of favour when they take my ideas and run with them and then come back to me ( that is if they do) and present some kind of gig/job/role for me to carry out sometimes for free( sometimes for a fee) and think/expect/assume that I’m okay with this. That I’d jump at the chance of doing this shit for them on their own terms with them assuming all the control and power when I’ve been doing this shit by myself for others for as long as time, without shit from them.

Exploitation. Extraction. White supremacy culture comes to mind. Comes to heart here.

No discussion. No seeking permission. No asking if this is okay. Nothing.

Except the conceited, privileged, racist assumptions/ take over that this is something I would do and not refuse to do because … that I need them? Or that I need the money or the exposure? That this is the only way to do it? Or what?

I don’t know because they didn’t see fit to talk to me about it.

So many things are wrong about this situation. The whole concept. The timeframes. The costings. The language used to describe my people. My community.

Not to even mention that they spelt my name wrong throughout the whole fucking ‘proposal’.

I don’t think they know who they are dealing with. I don’t think they really know who I am or have been listening to me all along. Really listening to me and understanding who I am and where I’m coming from.

There’s blood in the water.

The sun has broken through the dark.

Vampires are not feasting on my fucking soul anymore.

I sold my soul once before and it didn’t turn out well for me.

With soul and dignity and integrity intact I’m not about to surrender them again for jackshit. For someone who does not hear/ value/ see me.

I refuse.

Jog on!

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.

take me dancing, dancing in the rain

| Sheree
i ain’t smiling

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.

where does your energy go?

| Sheree
i ain’t smiling

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.