fugitivity

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.

Protecting my peace

| Sheree
i ain’t smiling

I’ve been in a battle with myself.

The lessons I try and pass on to my kids are not to allow anyone else to change you. You go about your business as yourself. Don’t change for nobody.

I’ve been in a battle with myself.

I know my nature. I smile a lot. I lean into the joy of life because I’ve always said life is too short after being touched by death so young ( I now think life is long but that’s another conversation).

I’ve been in a battle with myself.

I’ve noticed I’m walking out now and not smiling. To myself or others. My face is fixed in a neutral stare, going about my business. I don’t not need/ want to look, speak or touch anyone else.

I’ve been in a battle with myself.

Is it my nature to smile and make contact with other (white) people because that’s who I am? Or do I do it to make them feel comfortable and not to think I’m a threat to their safety? Do I smile because I’m happy? Or do I smile to keep others happy?

I’ve been in a battle with myself.

Through speaking with a ( black female) friend recently things have become clearer and more resolute.

i ain’t smiling.

Not smiling, gazing or connection with (white) people while out walking/ coffee drinking/ shopping/whatever, is me, protecting my peace.

i ain’t smiling

| Sheree
i ain’t smiling

People have said to me before – you have a beautiful smile.

Or – you’re beautiful when you smile.

Or – your smile is contagious. I see you smile and I just smile backatya.

Bullshit.

Where I live, black faces are few and far between. But I’ve lived here close to 16 years. It’s my home now. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else because I’m close to the sea.

But still when I’m walking the streets. My streets. I’m still looked upon as a stranger. That is when they see me.

Because I’m a joyful person, I smile. I smile a lot. Especially after a dip in the sea. Then I can take on the world. I can face the world with a smile.

I have lost count of the number of times I’m walking out, look up to make eye contact with someone walking towards me. Even give a smile or a nod of recognition, a greeting. And there’s been nothing in return. No eye contact. No smile. No recognition of a fellow human being. No connection. Nothing.

And if there has been a gaze at me, it’s not welcoming or positive. It’s been hostile, or questioning or vacant.

Don’t gaslight me into thinking this isn’t the case. This is my experience. You weren’t there. And I’m sick and tired of giving the others the benefit of the doubt.

I’ve never been given the benefit of the doubt. That is never bestowed on me. I’ve accepted it. Allowed it. Made excuses and explanations for it. But no more.

i ain’t smiling.

I ain’t making eye contact. I’m not stepping off the pavement to make room for others. I’m taking up space. My space. Nobody else’s. Mine.