Tonight at InsideStorytime, I'm reading a piece set in Trinidad. It's a piece that feels deeply personal, in a strange way. I guess I can wait until after I've read it to elaborate on that. But it makes sense that the idea of writing as an act of discovery applies to reading and sharing work, too.

Each reading brings surprises. Sometimes, discoveries come through self-reflection on my work and its relationship with the audience. And always, I find something new by sharing the experience of that work with the audience.

At last Thursday's Generation FIVE fundraiser, for example, I gained more insight on how my poetry fits into the framework of Transformative Justice. It really felt right to be part of an event that included the brilliant voices of Vanessa Huang and Janee Smith, as well as a moment to join a stand for human rights by making phone calls to support the Pelican Bay Prisoner Hunger Strike. I'm still in the process of taking in everything that evening offered.

For tonight's reading, I'm already making new discoveries, as I think about this piece and what it means to me. I'm also looking forward to readings by Michael David Lukas, Angie Chau, Heather Fowler and Andrew Dugas. With Ransom Stephens as the MC.

Come by if you're in the Bay Area tonight. Our art engages us in conversation, and the more people join, the more we can all discover.

InsideStorytime
Cafe Royale
800 Post Street
San Francisco, California
6:30-8:30 pm

When all you’ve got is your art, you can’t help but learn something from it.

One of the good things about keeping busy with readings and school is that I’ve been so immersed in my writing. So naturally, that’s where all my life lessons have been coming from recently. Like the one that goes: it’s not what happens that matters, but what’s discovered along the way. This could apply to readers and writers of a particular piece, but I think it can apply to the way we approach life, too. Here I am, spending so much time working on my writing, and what would it mean, reaching whatever end goal I’m heading toward, if I didn’t learn something valuable along the way?

I keep running across reminders of this lesson. It appeared in craft talks from folks like Sandra Alcosser and Joseph Millar at my residency last month. And again in a documentary I recently came across, called “Breathless in Trinidad & Tobago.” It’s a film by Vincent T. Joachim, documenting his travels with Jeff Cruz to Gonzalez, Trinidad to teach a free photography workshop to youth. I can’t believe I didn’t find this earlier – a film about the empowerment of youth through the influence of art, set in my father’s home country of Trinidad. This is such a great find.

Joachim helps change the lives of the young people he works with by not only boosting their photography skills, but also by helping them see how the tools they use in their art can also apply to their ways of living. For youth growing up in a country where so many are affected by violence, gaining the confidence and skill these young people build could make a life-altering difference.

On one assignment, Joachim urges the young photographers to “change your perspective – not just in photography, but in your daily life.”

That’s something I’m trying in my writing. And in other ways, too.

What do you learn from creating art?

Check out this clip from “Breathless in Trinidad & Tobago,” and watch the entire film on Vimeo here.

This week has been chaotic for me. I'm hopeful that my life will find its rhythm and slow down soon, and I'm really looking forward to it.

Tomorrow evening will be a good start. I'll be eating good food, spending time with good people and reading my poetry in support of a really good cause.

It's Thursday night's Lengua en Salsa, the pupusa fundraiser in which I read last year for Community United Against Violence (CUAV). This post reminded me of what a great reading that was, and I'm really pumped to do it all over again, this time to support Generation FIVE.

What is Lengua en Salsa? It's "Happy Hour of the Movement," a fundraiser that happens every Thursday at Sunrise Restaurant in San Francisco. DJs play music, folks share sangria and pupusas, and 20% of everything the restaurant makes that evening goes to benefit a community organization. That's right - all you have to do is show up and eat delicious Salvadorean food, and you can help create social change. Mark your Thursday calendar, if you haven't already. This Thursday's event will benefit Generation FIVE, and will feature poetry by Vanessa Huang and myself.

Who is Generation FIVE? An outstanding organization that aims to end the sexual abuse of children within five generations. Visit their website to read about their approach to child sexual abuse as social justice - "Generation FIVE works at the roots of child sexual abuse and holds a vision of liberation, justice and sustainability for all of our futures."

I first became familiar with Generation FIVE at last summer's U.S. Social Forum. Folks from the organization shared the principles and practices of Transformative Justice, a liberatory approach to violence that includes healing, accountability and community action. "Toward Transformative Justice" is available here if you want to learn more about Transformative Justice. And to support the good work of Generation FIVE, join us for pupusas and poetry tomorrow evening!

Lengua en Salsa
Thursday, July 14th  5:00-7:30pm
Sunrise Restaurant
3126 24th St. between Shotwell and Folsom in San Francisco 

Also, a request if you plan to attend: Please make preparations to ensure this event is accessible and safe for people with chemical injury and environmental illness. We request you refrain from wearing hair and body products with fragrance or clothing washed in detergent with fragrance, including "natural" products and essential oils. We want to make sure everyone can attend.

For folks with MCS, please note that this event is going to be held at at a restaurant that will be open to people who have not received this invitation. If you have any concerns or questions, feel free to check in with Prentis, phemphill@generationfive.org prior to or during the event.

Between being caught up with school and writing, I’ve been spending some time over the past few days composing and deleting blog posts reflecting on the Queer Rebels of the Harlem Renaissance performance. Most of the posts have just been rambling and raving about the show and queer black history. After trying to come up with something more eloquent, I’m just going to go with some of the rambling. I am, after all, thinking about truth telling, and what better way is there to get to the truth than to get there uncensored?

Last weekend’s Queer Rebels of the Harlem Renaissance was nothing less than fabulous, of course. And what was really exciting was that we didn’t have to do as I expected, traveling back in time to celebrate the vibrancy of the Harlem Renaissance. The lives and legacies of folks including Gladys Bentley and Langston Hughes came to the stage through artists of today, like Kirya Traber and Earl Thomas. The sense I got as the audience flooded the space with cheers at the end of the night was that the applause from the Harlem Renaissance never ended. At some point, that period of history may have been over, with the Great Depression bringing the lively Jazz Age to a close, but those who created the art, literature and music of the time left a drumming in our hearts that hasn’t stopped beating.

It was very uplifting, to witness people whose struggles go back for centuries rising up with pride. But my question today is about the moment that occurred before the show began. When Celeste Chan and KB Boyce, the show’s delightful directors, appeared onstage, they offered some of the usual pre-show chatter – a warm welcome, hearty thanks for our presence, a request to please silence our cell phones. Then, they added something not quite so common – a gentle reminder that the subject matter of the show can bring with it stories of oppression, violence and trauma. They informed us that counselors from San Francisco Women Against Rape were in the audience, and briefly turned the house lights on so the counselors could identify themselves in case we needed to check in with them after the show.

I really appreciated this moment. I appreciate anyone who can pause to recognize the potential impact of their words on violent subject matter, especially when they also take the time to offer some healing directly afterward.

Still, it brings up my question – why does our joy have to come with a trigger warning?

After an event that’s simultaneously so powerful, joyful, and heart-wrenching, I’m thinking again about the possibility of simply letting go and having fun. Has suffering played such a substantial role in the histories of queer people of color that we can’t celebrate our histories without being reminded of our anguish?

I think it’s true, that in order to share our whole stories we must hold both the joy and the pain. Queer Rebels of the Harlem Renaissance reminded me, however, that I don’t believe this is a bad thing. If anything, reflecting on our histories in this way can help us relearn how to be our whole selves, without shame or regret. We look back and laugh, though we may at times have tears in our eyes, not lamenting our struggles but rejoicing in our triumphs over trouble.

This is truth telling in its truest form. Big thanks to everyone involved in Queer Rebels of the Harlem Renaissance. Thanks for your truth, your heart, your spirit. I can’t wait for the show’s return next year.

You may know that I'm slightly obsessed with the Harlem Renaissance. And if you didn't know, you might've guessed - it was an era in which black folks, many of them queer, expressed and empowered themselves through art, writing, music and dancing. Clearly, I was born several decades too late to join in this movement that was right up my alley.

At least this weekend I'll have the chance to go back in time. I'm completely giddy with excitement for this weekend's Queer Rebels of the Harlem Renaissance. The performance event, put on by Kali Boyce and Celeste Chan's Queer Rebel Productions, includes film, theater, modern dance, burlesque and blues. The performers aim to "reclaim history and the urgency of our art and activism."

Sounds exciting. The show opened last night, and continues tonight at 7:30 at the African American Art & Culture Complex in San Francisco. Get more information here.