Black-lash the everyday experience of terrorism

When we examine the recent bombings and ponder the destined backlash our brown comrades will endure and how to support them through it, do we also reflect on the daily terror that is our lived experiences as Black folks or are we too dark to be worthy?

The Black backlash is everyday, everywhere it is prevalent and persistent. It comes from the dark abyss of white power (in our universities, our workplace, where we volunteer, where our kids go to school), white passing privilege and from people of color who gain access to traditionally white only places of power based on the skin color gradient at the door. Its the social hierarchy of white supremacy that teaches us that the closer you are to whiteness the prettier, smarter, more trustworthy, more qualified, less violent and more reliable you are.

I recently had a well known brown feminist dog me to someone in the nicest, most politically correct way I've heard in a while, by condescendingly commenting on how well my attire fits in/ assimilates (for a Black woman) at a traditionally white only feminist space that she a brown woman holds power in. The compliment it was mean to be was over shadowed by the over sized "but" that followed, then a "...I highly recommend (insert name of white woman) instead."

Sure it hurt, but not as much as the realization that someone who was considered trusted, as an ally is thoroughly infected by the anti-Black racist plague that is so easily visible thus readily diagnosed in white women. Then slowly all the previous feedback received including descriptive words usually used when describing the angry Black Woman trope or the need to sideline Trans women issues all started to make sense. The symptoms where there all along.

As Black women we understand struggle, survival at all cost, we empathize not just for empathy sake but because we have first hand knowledge of a lifetime lived daily as the ultimate kicking stone of our society. Sure we stand in solidarity with the displaced and victimized women around the world, especially in war torn parts of Asia and the Middle East and on unceded land here at home; and firmly oppose to Islamophobia everywhere. We can often be seen supporting if not leading inter-sectional causes with other Black, Indigenous folks and People of Color (BIPOC) everywhere on college campuses, from Blacklives to Plastine, LGBTQ2IA, Sex Worker Rights, Homelessness, AntiPoverty, Fight for $15 and beyond.  

The question are:

• With white supremacy functioning in all our progressive feminist spaces when will Black women be supported on the merits of our characters and body of our work rather than the amount of melanin in our skin? 
• Is feminism only for white women and women who closely resemble them in looks and their ability to keep the doors firmly closed on Black women?

Five key steps to displacing your whiteness

1. Lean in. Sometimes Afrocentric knowledge hurts, and that's when you need to lean in and open up more, decentralizing whiteness is like debriding centuries old wound that is rotten to the core. You will have to work hard and quickly before sepsis sets in.

2. Old habits die hard.
Decentralizing your whiteness is not a gift to People of Color, Decentralizing your whiteness is NOT a gift to People of Color, therefore we do not owe you our labor or knowledge for free.

3. Stay the course. Do not feel berated or discouraged when those oppressed refuse to help for free. While you may not have directly participated in colonization and slavery you have been born into a world where you continually profit from its systemic inequalities. see step 2 above.

4. Double Down. Knowledge is power, so keep reading keep reflecting on how you have unwittingly contributed to the status quo, keep unlearning and then do the work QUIETLY (do not expect an ally ship cookie), donate, show up when needed and collect your friends when their privilege starts leaking (white tears are a valuable asset that signals they might want to start at step 1. above)  

5. Pass it on. If you learn something new you will be expected to clue in your other white friends and family members (this might be hard, so seek support from your community) never forget that while privilege isn't contagious it does leak and even with your new found knowledge you have not arrived at ally-ship mecca.

*ally-ship mecca is the mythical place where you end up after clocking a set amount of allyship hours, once you are there you are not only absolved of all privileges (while still benefiting from them) but you then become immune to ever being guilty of not being a super ally.

The present past of our forgotten Womyn

Sitting with today's events unable to unpack some that are so heavily steeped in white supremacy, anti-blackness and self hate. The mounting effects of colonialist genocide, patriarchy in all its violent hues, affecting generations of women birthed into slavery; the cycle of violence upon our bodies has been relentlessly consistent and audibly visible on our mother's bodies and her mother before her.

Today I met my 96 year old great grandmother: I saw my daughter in her and heard my mother's voice in her laughter, I felt my grandmothers compassion when she embraced me and for the first time I understood what it meant to be fierce. We sang together, we talked about food and joked about everything including our uncomfortable shared history, but mostly I watched her. I watched her breath with defiant ease, quietly, on purpose and on point, like every breath inhaled is act of war we must not only survive but win.

I have much to unpack, much to learn and share, for now I'll leave you with this: a song that all five generations of Black Xamaycan womyn sang in a small room in East New York one very hot day in August 2015.

The conflicted feminist: Boycotting Rabble.ca

In May there was a call to boycott Rabble.ca queen mother Megan Murphy - a hateful white feminist who purports to speak for people like me *gulp* but who is in fact the racist transphobic, anti sex working incarnate of a wolf in sheep clothing riding a white savior horse. She is the white pearl clutching feminist your mother should have warned you about because feminism and freedom only looks like what she defines it as, so does consent and what is sexy. cliff notes version: you can only consent to sex under her very privileged defined options, trans women aren't women and women can only do "sexy" in very specific very white centric ways. Did I miss anything? oh yeah you must agree with her or you are aiding the silencing of all women, and any men that disagree with her views especially black men she calls them misogynistic and "bros".

This blog post isn't about the violence perpetrated by the platform of pearl-clutching white savior types or the feminist media who gives them an all out unchecked, unchallenged pulpit.

Instead this blog is for the conflicted feminist who agree that MM is toxic but who are having mixed feelings about the effects of boycotting any woman; after all she is in sheep's clothing.  
"I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot.  So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth." - Revelation 3:15-16 (ESV)

Yeahhh I haven't quoted a bible scripture in a while: I was raised a devout Christan (much like glitter and dog hairs some things unfortunately take a lot longer clean up and to get off you) but this one really nails it on many levels.  

Dear conflicted feminist,

The benefits from the 1st boycott for me personally has been solidarity with marginalized sex workers who were not familiar with Rabble's stance on the matter and an invaluable international and local support from all people both sex workers and allys.

I know it can be easy to forget the level of personal impact support can mean, for me personally it felt like my life as a Black woman mattered to not only WOC sex workers but to other feminist who otherwise would not have taken a stance.

Feminist everywhere took a stand, and defended their stand not just for Sex Workers but for the most marginalized of us Trans women, Women of Color especially Black and Indigenous  who experience the severe impact of the vitriolic hate of Rabble's base MM like supporters. 

Indeed it is difficult to support the most marginalized of us and as a seasoned community organizer I understand that victory is rarely swift and sustained success is never won after the first attempt. 

“You can’t dump one cup of sugar into the ocean and expect to get syrup. If everybody sweetened her own cup of water, then things would begin to change.” –Florynce Kennedy

Yes, I will also agree that their has been some divisiveness within those that do support sex workers rights and that is to be expected. Supporting Sex Workers rights while a great umbrella cause isn't protective enough to weather the specific ways in which the most vulnerable sex workers face harms.

Being a great feminist ally who supports the rights of sex workers also means standing firm on a intersectional view of feminism that not only includes but champions the needs to the most marginalized sex workers. It means analyzing the discourse of race, class and transmisogyny in feminist circles. It means not speaking over but also echoing the voices that aren't often heard (Trans, Queer, Poor, informally educated, diffrently-abled, undocumented, migrant). Yes that means that white women must be silent in-order to listen and to create these much needed spaces for the racialized and marginalized of us to be heard.

Yes being silent isn't easy for folks with race, class and educational privilege nor is is easy to hear that your feminism isn't intersectional, needs sharpening and upgrading because both implies that where you are now isn't enough and is in fact damaging; and this is not an easy pill to swallow for the best of us.

For others who are not passive in their intersectional feminist approach, who's love for the movement inspires them to call up / call out other feminist (who support the rights of sex workers) to re-educate and sharpen their approach to not only include but champion the proliferation of voices most marginalized by white supremacy and misogyny.

They are called divisive because they choose not to take the passive, less inclusive path, they are called flawed because their approach is transparent. They are called weak, riddled with guilt and radical because they would rather that paid speaking engagement, space in that popular magazine, grant and spotlight be given away to someone with less privilege, and less opportunities; but personally  I call them allys.

 Ally ship with racialized and other marginalized sex workers is a killer stair-master that requires a lot of continuous work and as such I have nothing but compassion for those who choose to pick their battles carefully and thoughtfully because I also know of the heart wrenching disappointment of having comrades who choose to walk away when the fight gets too tough or too inconvenient for where their conviction on human rights and equity are.

Much like being at a breast cancer rally when one of your friends yells all cancers matter, it can also be embarrassing and feel defeating.

I have a lots of empathy for where you find yourself and while your support isn't contingent on me moving forward with my continued support to boycott Rabble.ca It would be more than lovely to count on you as an ally, to have you stand by me and for others like me to make a stance (even if you find it  frivolous) against any magazine that supports hate speech, if for no other reason than that you understand that it is a violent attack on the most marginalized women and your conviction, your feminism wont allow to to idly stand by and watch.

"We demand a discerning voice of equality and equity that respects and values all women including trans women, women of colour and women in the sex industry. Displays of racism, whorephobia and transmisogyny have no place in a progressive publication like Rabble. It is time for Rabble to take responsibility and cease offering a platform for hate in the form of zealous bigotry from Meghan Murphy and others like her." - Boycott MM Petition written and undersigned by feminists, grassroots community groups and organizations that support intersectional feminism.

STRUT
Maggie's - Toronto Sex Workers Action Project
Black Lives Matter - Toronto
No More Silence
TransPride Toronto
Canadian Alliance for Sex Work Law Reform
Southwest Ontario Sex Workers
Stella, L’Amie de Maimie
PACE Society (Vancouver)
Sex Professionals of Canada
Winnipeg Working Group for Sex Workers’ Rights
PIECE Edmonton
Butterfly (Migrant and Asian Sex Workers)
Toronto Migrant Sex Worker Project
ASTT(e)Q : Action Santé Travesti(e)s et Transsexuel(le)s du Québec
Shameless Magazine
Desiree Alliance, USA
SHOP (Nfld)
St. John's Status of Women Council
Sex Worker Open University (UK)
Sex Workers Outreach Project - New Orleans (SWOP-NOLA)
Sex Workers Alliance Ireland (SWAI)
No One Is Illegal - Toronto
Toronto Trans Alliance
Community and Family Aid Foundation - Ghana
Centre for Women and Trans People - York University
 Pembe Hayat/Pink Life LGBTT Solidarity Association, Ankara-TURKEY

For the love of Black hair

Sitting at an all Black hair salon for the first time in several years, and the entire experience is like communing with my ancestors.  
Why did I wait so long? My stylist grabs the tiny stands of hair at the front of my head and breath in deeply and out reminding myself to pace my breath as she weaves her fingers though my hair revealing my tortured past.
I close my eyes and take another deep breath as I sink lower into my seat hoping to merge into the silhouette my chair and into my soundings.
On the radio 700 club is selling Christian prayers to the tune of someone describing how white Jesus saved him. The latest soap opera is play on the TV as someone yells "she's faking that pregnancy" over the sound of the industrial fan blasting recycled air sweetened with the smell of oil sheen spray. Ladies with manicured nails sit under the hair drier reading the latest fashion and tabloid magazines. The stylist beside me kisses her teeth and while others laugh to the point of tears as I show them the pictures and articles claiming that Marc Jacob invented Banu Knots, another customer exclaimed from the waiting area "did you hear, the Chinese invented steel pan music" every one laughs. I have tears in my eyes but it's not the over whelming sense of community in this shop on a Tuesday morning it's the searing pain from the process of having my hair tightly styled to perfection. In a distance I can hear my grandmother saying "dry those tears, beauty feels no pain" 

Oh Mother!!

Big shout and a warm thank you all the folks who mother without ever been given the title; to those who had to mother themselves;  to the fathers who mother; the folks that fall inbetween and are too often left behind; to the mothers who aren't with us anymore but will never leave our side; to the almost mothers and the never will be mothers who nurture us near and far; to the mothers who's sons and daughters have been taken too soon by state santioned violence, by patriarchy and by white supremacy; To the Mothas who vogue, who care for the motherless within our community, to the Trans women who Motha and Modah and Mother, I see you; and I thank you all for inspiring me to being the best revolutionary mother I can be.
Pick a day any day and take it for yourselves.

Spare the rod: Discipline and our Black children

White supremacy will have us all replicating acts of state sanctioned violence on our own children.

My Dad once yelled at me, told me how disappointed he was in my actions (staying out overnight with my Brother and his friends) 
 His words, tone and the look on his face made me want to dole out lashes on myself in his honor. Even as an adult his words still linger within me.

I've largely been disciplined using words, kind, harsh, truthful, honest words that are forever etched in my psyche.  Once my aunt once tried to physically discipline me, its a moment in our history where she saw me for who I am as an individual with agency; this forever changed our relationship for the better. 

I once threatened to spank my daughter and she put me to my paces, explaining to me how it made her feel in words that made me ashamed, and forced me reflect on: how my own Caribbean upbringing impacted my parenting, the historical significance of how my race, gender and the cultural expectations of how my child should be, act or think based on my parenting.

I've learnt the hard way how to individually parent this child, mostly by fumbling through the dark with her, listening to her and loving myself enough to give her only the best of me. 

Even as a single parent I feel privileged to call her my daughter, to provide a safe place for her to be heard, to be seen, for her to learn, for her to feel loved. 

And when we discuss violence, it's usually within the context of defence of self, community and each other. I am excited to discuss the importance and impact violence had and continues to have within the context of the revolution. 

As for me, I won't shame, shun or applaud the mother seen beating her son who was protesting. He was moved to act for a greater cause and his mother, well she acted out of fear for the life of her son in the only way she knew how. 

But in the vicious never ending cycle of violence on our Black bodies who truly wins when we regurgitate the actions of massa and now sanctioned by a militarized state on our young. 

Race relations Canada vs USA

*backpost from November 2014 - Its a little ranty but thats ok :)

Thinking Canada is any better than the US is just naive.

Thinking that the Special Investigations Unit's (SIU) are any better than the police they investigate is just naive

2012 Ontario ombudsman says its problematic that SIU investigators arrived at the scene with “a whole bunch of preconceived notions of self-defense"

Thinking that if a black man was mercilessly gunned down that you would have answers or the very least know the name of the officer who killed him is just Naive.
Ask the family of Jermaine Carby

Thinking the police would lay charges against one of their own if the police ran over and killed your 5 year old black child while: speeding, running a red light, in an unmarked car without any flashing lights or a siren then you are naive. Ask the family of Nicolas Thorne-Belance, in Montreal

DONT BE NAIVE - Canada is packed filled with racist ideologies, and governed through systemic oppression.

Continues to chant "The system isnt broken it was built this way" #BlackLivesMatter 

white supremacist agenda – systematically eradicating black lives

 

 Policing - in charge of extermination and procurement

Justice system – Ensuring detainment and normalizing of mass slavery

Educational system – Erasure of history, of self-value of self-worth. Indoctrination, introduction to militarization, behavior modification: how to be and act civilized like good white folks.

Religion – reinforcement of behaviour modification, mental and emotional slavery, pacify any means of rebellion thru indoctrination, subjugation. Insubordination = eternal damnation but obedience = eternal life.

Militarization – Money = More Power. Power is Safety, freedom, and Love therefore more wars equals increased freedoms

Media and popular culture – demonizing black: physical traits, black love. Appropriation and rebranding of black music, food and clothing.

What I was taught:

Black men are thieves, liars, fornicators, family deserters, violent thugs, who’s only value is in his ability to labour. Once naturalized and tamed his agility and strength can be capitalize upon.  

Black women are promiscuous, reproduce wildly, uncontrolled, loud, the source of problem, they must be controlled, sterilized and made to watch their off springs suffer, be enslaved, and executed. Their wombs are cursed with the diseases of blackness, they produce only social plagues.

What I did:

Maintained a socially upstanding life, as a leader at school, in the military, and at church; as an educational over achiever.  As an only child failure was never an option and I met and exceeded all expectations. Marrying at 21 to the 1^st white* man who professed love.

How I continue to unlearn:

Motherhood, failure, depression, suicide, cycle of self-destructive behaviours, truth, rebellion, love, community, organizing, constant life exfoliation and re-growth.

Practicing Black love as a Black person is truly a militant and revolutionary act.

Dear Rob Ford: My 6yr old would like share her lesson with you

For the last three or four summer camp days my spawn has been coming home with her water bottle full, so as always I’ve been following up with: Did you forget to drink your water today, why is your water bottle still full?, you need water to grow, and a 100 useful “fun” facts about why we need water. All of which were rebuffed with stories of how she drank all her water and re-filled it at camp. Which made sense the first two times. After the third day I caught on and would ask questions casting doubt and reminding her why it is important to tell the truth but she reassured me it was all legit.

Fast forward to day five or so when she had a string of supporting cast all of who she went with to fill the bottle and featuring a teacher who helped open the bottle. So of course I asked if I called her teacher would she support her story and what should happen if she doesn’t; To which my cleaver spawn even had punishment ideas. That’s of course until I called her bluff and suggested harsher punishment more befitting prolonged deception. She broke down and in tears admitted to all the lies in sequential order and then uttered as sincere of an apology as a six year old in tears could muster which was then followed up by a plea for clemency.

Her punishment was decided upon and agreed to by the both of us in three parts: One was a denial of privilege by rescinding her permission to attend a field trip that was planned for the next day to the Hockey Hall of Fame something she had been looking forward to for a very long time and even got a family member to purchase a hockey jersey of her favorite team to wear on the trip; Two education thru repetition, she would have to tell everyone who asked why she wasn’t going the whole truth of what happened; And three in her next video blog she would discuss the lesson she learn and different ways to rebuild trust.

She cried that morning before summer camp I almost did too, we shared our feelings and how we will hold each other accountable in love thru honest communication, how punishment can sometimes feel like lack of love in the moment and that even though that’s how she felt that she also knew in her heart that I loved her “dearly”. 

....Lessons from a six year old to Rob Ford  

Celebrating the lives, history and strength of those who were never meant to survive.

Heading to the beach in hopes of finally discussing HER aboriginal history with her. Not sure how much is too much and even where to start.
Reflecting on the stories of the residential-school system HER grandaunt shared with me, the separation from her family, everything she knew and the impact it still had on her.
Cherishing my baby's happiness in celebrating a day of her colonizers never sat well with me but here we are:
I'm dragging ass to the beach praying to the ancestors; hers and mines for wisdom, guidance and courage.
Shes smiling and skipping along in a oversize red Canada day hat she was gifted. #lesigh #ohCanada

Centering: Black, Indigenous and all Peoples of Color

Creating anything that is centered on the experiences of Black, Indigenous and People of Color (BIPOC) isn't popular and can be problematic as white supremacy has weaved itself into every aspect of our lived and shared experiences. white supremacy demands answers, demands power and center stage, it demands not only that we hate each other but that we hate all the different shades of our heritage and all traces of our his/her story.

As for me, I wont buckle or budge. This revolution might start as a concept, but I will be there every day pounding the pavement, raising my voice in celebration of placing BIPOC in the center: For those of us who's birthright have been snuffed out from existence, for those of us who cant go home, or have no home, for those who have been disowned and disenfranchised.

I wont claim to know all the answers, or even know what all the questions are, but I will keep my money, my voice and my soul where my heart is at all times. I will keep on evolving, loving my comrades and my self. Until there is no strength left to move, no blood left to be spilled and no breath left to voice the struggles of our people.

After all ... I am Maroon.

"I believe we are still so innocent. The species are still so innocent that a person who is apt to be murdered believes that the murderer, just before he puts the final wrench on his throat, will have enough compassion to give him one sweet cup of water."
- Maya Angelou (Rest in Strength)

Shadow

I am the pain on your soul.
You've been: bled, torn open, walked on, brutalized and left to rot.
You can try not to be defined by your past but your history was barely survivable.
I see your smile and I hear your shallow breath when you say you are "OK".
But I know too well the weight of your story, the paralyzing fear that keeps you up at night and crippled in bed during the day. I see your your dreams been flooded by nightmares of not being able to protect your own from a similar faith. And while you are not defined by your trauma you will never be afforded the ability to just walk away.
Do not be fooled... I am with you always, I am your shadow; embrace me. 

*Image by Kevin Sweeney. 

Breaking up with Christianity

When I tell people I was raised very religious a certain look washes their face as a noticeable computation of what that would look like on me and whether to offer a sympathetic ear. 

The truth is I would rather come out a thousand times over as gay/queer before I say what I know in my heart is true ... that I've denounced my faith in Christianity. It is such guarded information that this is actually the first time I've thought it out loud.

The "why", is much longer than I would have time or space to write about or openly process. 
But I can say the "how", and that its been a very long time coming. I can say that Christianity has had a profound impact in my life.


Dear Christianity,

I will refrain from saying "its not you its me" the truth is its mostly you.

I have loved you from before I knew myself, we started this relationship at such an early age that I never really thought twice about the potential of a break up. You have been there for me and with me through some extremely difficult times and I know I wouldn't have survived otherwise. There were times I felt abandoned and ignored by you; when you stood by and allowed my innocence to be stolen, I wondered if you were cheating on me or if you just didn't love me anymore.  Like a naive yet obedient child I thought that I could solve my dilemmas by loving you more, committing to you more, giving more, being more than I ever thought possible. I attended every denominational service I could find, but even that didn't prevent it, it didn't prevent them.

Then you told me to not live by works but by faith, which I can say has been one of the greatest parts of loving you. Holding on to hope, as I barricaded my doors nightly. I prayed that you would see my undying faith, my lack of interest in sin and my commitment you.

After moving to Canada I knew you loved me and I wallowed in your bosom. Forsaking all else I join up, signed in and was baptized, renewing our wedding vows again for the forth time. I led many to you, recruited many for you and remained devoted throughout. I stifled my lust towards my gay female supervisor and fasted harder and prayed every time we were in the same room. I moved in with my other Christian sisters did everything with them and stayed faithfully true to your cause. I didn't know I was in a religious cult, I was blinded by love. And for a very long time I resented you and yet I felt obligated to you.

After leaving the cult I felt lost and so at a very young age I got married, instead of fornicating I lived by your words and was the dutiful and obedient wife and mother you wanted me to be. After several years my marriage crashed, I reflected on the life I've lived and the Biblically flawless choices I made. I slowly I started falling out: out of love, out of devotion out of obedience out of righteous indignation.

I purposely and methodically stripped myself bare, I saw that what I had stifled my whole life was me. I had been so easily lead, manipulated, and confined that I got used to seeing myself as a reflection of you. As I stood up for me, I had to unlearn, I had to start re-living, and re-evolving into the woman I was meant to be, the mother I wanted to be and the warrior I was destined to be.

I don't regret our relationship, I have known and loved you longer than I have known and love myself. And I will openly admit that finding me and loving me has been and probably will be the most difficult challenge in my life. I know there will be hiccups, I know I will falter, and I have, as I am only in the infancy of self love and self actualization.

For the first time I'm starting to see myself whole. I see you, completely and I see your spirit of indoctrination. I now know that you are a Trojan horse given by my colonizers and I see how my history and true self has been systematically replaced.

I do take full responsibility for the choices I've made, and for the person I was and have become and I choose to no longer be apart of this charade. I will choose to be hopeful, I will choose to be loving and honest and true.

I choose me.

Its over and I'm officially and publicly walking away. 

THE ANGRY BLACK WOMAN

So much anger, ripe disdain, murderous rage, her loud. screaming. voice. The savagery that is the angry black woman narrative.

She must be conquered, she must be laid bare, her loins are possessed with evil desires and her womb is cursed to churn out, litters of black babies and the worst of all atrocities the monstrous black boy.

This narrative is more poisonously popular today than it was in the days of slavery, back then the black woman could be tamed by the gruesome beatings of the black man and raped into submission by her white master.

Then there were the Nanny of the Maroon's, the Rosa Parks, the Ella Baker's, the Angela Davis, the Audre Lorde's, the Assata Shakur's, the Diane Abbott's. 

No longer were we just a quite place to pour the rage and frustrations that is the emasculation of black men, nor were we just a warm wet hole to conquer by our white masters. We the Black women of this world have an elusive power, our resiliency, and a wisdom that echoes thru our children. We teach them to read, to dream, we have given birth to new generations and with that we gave them something that is surprisingly more powerful than others could have imagined... we have given our descendants hope.

I sit my daughter between my legs; legs that had been forcefully pried open by your patriarchy and white supremacy. I slowly part her hair, and gently rub in the oils of my fore-mothers as I tell her stories of Anansi the spider's cunning and Nanny's leadership, I sing her songs of freedom, and recite Miss Lou's poetry. I do it all: with a mothers touch, fierceness, love and solidarity.

Yes. I am angry, I am the angry Black Woman you speak of. 
I am passionate, I am strong,

 I have the power and the stillness of the side eye.

 I am a freedom fighter, I am a revolutionary leader,

 I wheel the powers and the pleasures of my own body. 

I am a visionary, 

A nurse, I am a mother, I birth nations of black souls 

and I equip them with the strength, wisdom, courage, 
and knowledge of their ancestors.

I am the embodiment of hope and change 

'cause betta mus com.

While you sleep

My great grandmother, my grandmother my mother and my daughter are all alive, a precious bio-fact like a jewel I hold so dear. But on nights like these when I watch my daughter sleep I cant help but think of the history of evil that has impacted our lives from slavery, rape, servitude and incest, all four generations of us are all survivors of some of the worst types of evil this world has to offer.

And then I look at her sleep, so delicately peaceful, and unaware that even as a fetus she was called a "mutt" by her white father's white coworker and friend. Then I remembered the 1st time she came home and explained that she wished she lived in Jamaica where people looked like her. And as I asked her to further explain her feelings, it all faded to black as my heart sank. I stood there motionless with every racist encounter I've had flashing thru my mind and body, triggered, angry and speechless.

I focused on her words as she explained her discomfort and her new acknowledgement of the racial divide in authority figures at her school. I remembered mumbling something about our city's history and the need for more diversity and the pace of change.
But really, how do I explain to a small child that as different as she feels she will not only experience a multitude of racist encounters, racist people, racist systems of white idolatry but will also be treated differently because of her light skin privilege? A privilege that must always be checked.

 For now I stand here over her bed watching her sleep, praying to my ancestors, the universe and my black god(dess) that she (my peacefully sleeping daughter) will be as fierce, as brave, as strong, as wise and even more resilient than the five generations of women who have all survived and are all alive, loving her and teaching her the best way we can.

*Image - Family Tree (Limited Edition Lithograph) - Keith Mallett