Last night's event was so much fun! And here's footage from an event a few months back - The Color of My Spirit, CUAV's spring showcase of queer and trans artists celebrating survival and resistance. Empowered youth, uplifting song, dance, poetry, comedy. Need I say more? I read my poems near the end, but the whole show is really worth watching. Featuring Joshua Merchant, Rosa Cortes, Tonilyn A. Sideco, Monica Enriquez-Enriquez, Nomy Lamm, myself and OurSpace, with host Yosimar Reyes. Enjoy!
The concept of change from within continues to touch my writing these days. And I'm thinking not just about change from within my own body, but also from within the communities who need it most. So often, we see it happen the opposite way – change taking place as outsiders see fit, without consideration of the community's voices speaking to what's best for their own lives. And usually, this kind of change follows certain patterns. Out with the liquor stores, and in with the wine bars. Out with the graffiti, in with the art galleries. And, of course, out with the low-income people of color, and in with those who can afford to live in the more expensive, new and "improved" version of the neighborhood. At the July Lit Slam, the stupendous featured poet, Danez Smith, read a poem he'd written from the perspective of a prostitute witnessing gentrification in her neighborhood. "My pussy got a Whole Foods," he read. The poem was a comically clever, making me laugh and making me reflect on the neighborhood where I grew up. It's still Whole Foods-free, and without gentrification, that land is sort of sacred ground.  And I know it may seem somewhat strange, to celebrate the preservation of conditions that are awful in so many ways. I'm from Stockton, California, a place that usually goes unrecognized unless it's at the top of a list measuring something like rates of crime, or unemployment, or overall misery. The parks near my old house host more drug deals and gun fights than picnics or barbeques. Recently, Stockton has made international news for the way it's worsened in the economic downturn. The news doesn't seem to indicate that Stockton will improve any time soon. So as I watch, I wonder where things will go from here. Will Stockton communities continue to experience award-winning misery? Or will they see positive change, as some believe? If so, my hope is for the people of Stockton to be able to feel safe and thrive, rather than being displaced by some new wave of privileged folk who decide that change is worth it because they've moved in. You know me – I find hope in poetry, in the telling of stories from the voices of the people. So With Our Words, a Stockton-based organization promoting youth development and leadership through literary and creative arts, is on my radar. Here's a video of Stockton youth competing in a poetry slam, with a piece that draws attention to the measures some take to find hope for change under dreary conditions.
When you’re learning to write, they say it’s all about the senses. They say I shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not readers can understand what it’s like to be me, or to have my experiences, as long as they’re in touch with something they can sense through the body.
So I shouldn’t have to write about my feelings after this weekend. I shouldn’t have to explain what I’m thinking about family, illness, separation and change.
Instead, I can write about the echo. I can tell you that the house I grew up in didn’t always have an echo. I guess that’s because the chairs and beds and tables always absorbed my sound before. But I didn’t notice until now. Didn’t realize until yesterday that the house itself, when empty, just takes my voice and tosses it back to me.
 I can tell you about a touch that feels familiar, though it’s been long forgotten. About the uneven surface of an old diary, now small in my hands. About opening the pages, running my hands over the grooves of the pen marks, just a child’s scrawl now, though I didn’t see it that way then. About the churning in my gut as I realized I was reading documentation of my early discoveries of the same forces shifting me now. Of change taking place more rapidly than I could grasp. Of what it meant to be recognized for my body and nothing else, and wondering, with doubt, if that, too, would someday change.
I can write about the emptiness of my open hand as I tossed the diary aside, into a pile of old books, as if it, too, was forgotten fiction, written by someone who isn’t me. I can tell you how the dust from the diary’s cover remained in the grooves of my skin, and how rubbing my fingertips together only deepened its resting place.
And maybe then I won’t have to worry that you’ve never been there, discarding the final remains of my childhood. Maybe I can just hope to offer a glimpse of how it feels.
As I've written before, around Christmas time and Valentine's Day, holidays can be complicated. And today, Mother's Day, is no different. Today I'm celebrating my mom, the strong woman whose love and support helped me become the woman I am today. I'm also reserving part of the day for thoughts and prayers for those who might be struggling. Those who have lost mothers, and children. And mothers separated from their kids - like those whose children are imprisoned, or who are imprisoned themselves. I'm thinking, of course, about my own reasons for having complicated feelings about this day. On Mother's Day a few years ago, I sat in a park with my mom and told her that she would soon be a grandmother. That day never came. I had a miscarriage, instead, a couple of months later. Today I'm thinking about all the moms who've lost their children before they were born. In a way, I feel guilty for spending time on such thoughts today. I see all of the celebratory hearts and flowers and I think, today's supposed to be a joyful day. There's nothing wrong with leaving it at that. But I have a feeling that, historically speaking, Mother's Day is actually meant to hold all of these complications. Did you know about the radical roots of Mother's Day? I've been reading up on it. First there was Julia Ward Howe, a poet and anti-war activist who began promoting Mother's Day for Peace in 1872. Then came Anna Jarvis, a childless woman who persuaded Congress to recognize the holiday in 1914, and who grew to resent the commercialism of the day. So, this day isn't only for Hallmark. Mother's Day is for everyone, including those who may be unable to get through it without shedding a few tears. Today I'm holding it all, sending my mom one of these fierce Mama's Day cards from Strong Families, and also recognizing those working for a better world for all mothers. Thank you for reading, and for your solidarity in holding the complexity of this day.
I remember when I read poet Bassey Ikpi's article in The Root last summer. The one in which she tells the world about Siwe Monsanto, the bright black teenager, daughter of Ikpi's close friend. The girl who wrote beyond her years, and also danced, and also cut herself, and also committed suicide at the age of 15. I remember thinking, how brave and generous of Ikpi, to share her grief with us, to tell Siwe's story without shame or fear that this isn't what we're supposed to be talking about. See, Siwe's more than a number to add to statistics of the increasing rates of black teens losing their lives to suicide. All of those who have lost their lives are. But without sharing their stories, we bury them in the silence so many communities of color hold around the subject of mental health. Stigmas against seeking out mental health treatment or even admitting you're struggling only hurt us, and oftentimes, those who hurt the most are our most vulnerable, the youngest among us. And it's not just a certain type of dialogue that allows these stigmas to continue. It's also a lack of dialogue. That dangerously still silence. So now, Siwe's story is not just words, but action. Ikpi's launched The Siwe Project, an organization that believes in the power of storytelling for individual healing, as well as community transformation. The project aims to help build "a world in which people of African descent can openly share their experiences with mental health challenges and feel supported in seeking treatment without shame." Visit the website for more details, and check out poet Bassey Ikpi in this touching video created for The Siwe Project. And also? Tell your stories.
What does it mean to be you? Would you know how to answer that question if somebody asked? How deep inside yourself would you need to look to find the answer? It is, after all, an answer that can only come from within yourself, based on what your identity means to you, and nobody else. What if the question was narrower? If someone asked you what it means to you to be of your race, your gender, your age? Here's a question that seems rare: What does it mean to you to be a black man? When popular perceptions of black men come so often through aggression in the media and the sobering results of the prison industrial complex, the authentic voices of black men speaking for themselves about what life means to them can be forgotten. So I'm really intrigued by the transmedia art project Question Bridge: Black Males. It's an installation currently showing at the Oakland Museum of California, as well as a few other locations around the country. Through a unique video format featuring a question and answer exchange between 160 black men, the project "seeks to represent and redefine Black male identity in America." To me, part of what's intriguing about projects like this one is how seemingly simple it is. It's a big endeavor, setting out to redefine black male identity, and yet, rather than calling for a complex creative process, it begins simply with asking questions and offering answers. This shows how powerful it can be to just speak from our own perspective, rather than allowing the media to speak for us. In this interview with Colorlines, one of the Question Bridge artists, Chris Johnson, speaks of creating as an "engaged artist," " trying to do something that’s transformative for people that experience it." With just a glimpse at this project, it's easy to see how such an installation can, indeed, be a transformative experience, both for those who took part in creating it and for those who witness the results. A glimpse is all I've gotten so far, but I can't wait to get out to the Oakland Museum of California to see more. You can read more from those who have seen the installation here and here, and visit the Question Bridge website for more information about the project and where you can see it in person. Here's a preview of what you'll see. What questions would you ask these men if you could? What would you ask someone like yourself? How would you answer?
___ The online videos making their way around the networks these days show an encouraging trend. Girls who aren't yet old enough to outgrow playing with toys are outgrowing silence and shame. They're speaking up and being heard. They are, as they say, going viral. People are listening. One video that was especially popular during holiday time was this one of a little girl complaining about the way toys are marketed by gender. Sure, I can grow up and complain about Barbie's role in my life when I was a kid, but it's so much more refreshing to see this child speak up about it now, telling us that she deserves more as she lives through girlhood. When young people find the courage to say for themselves that they need something more, they deserve at least for us to take a moment to listen. And here’s a girl who says that all of us deserve better – this thirteen year old talks about slut shaming, what it is and why it’s hurtful. Her insightfulness blows me away. And, of course, I gotta love little girls raising their voices through music. “My First Hardcore Song” is by Juliet, also known as the 8 year old who’s way more badass than I’ll ever be. In a more disappointing example of a video gone viral, a Girl Scout named Taylor is using her voice to ask people to boycott Girl Scout cookies, in order to show opposition to the Girl Scouts’ decision to include a transgender child in their organization. I’m glad to see girls finding their voices, but it makes me cringe to hear such a voice putting down others. So instead, in this example I’m applauding Bobby Montoya, the transgender child brave enough to speak up for the chance to be where she feels she belongs. She’s opened the doors for a delicious way to make a difference – all we have to do is eat more cookies to show our support for an inclusive Girl Scouts organization. Sign me up! Also, check out Girl Scouts’ new Year of the Girl campaign. Overall, I’m loving the presence of girl voices in viral videos these days. They’re not listening to any messages that tell them to grow up before they speak up, or to stay silent their whole lives. Sure, imagine a world full of women who raised these voices in girlhood. But before we fast forward, let’s stop and listen. The girls are speaking to us. Right now.
I was really happy to come across the following video. It was one of several created by ReachOut.com, which is an excellent website, as you can gather from its description: "ReachOut is an information and support service using evidence based principles and technology to help teens and young adults facing tough times and struggling with mental health issues. All content is written by teens and young adults, for teens and young adults, to meet them where they are, and help them recognize their own strengths and use those strengths to overcome their difficulties and/or seek help if necessary." It's really empowering to approach the hurdles of tough times with the idea that our own strength can get us through. And even though ReachOut is primarily for young folks, it's a lesson that all of us can find hope in. This short film shows a young woman finding hope by writing poetry. She says, "I noticed how writing out my emotions could affect how I felt, how others felt, and ultimately, how others treated me. I discovered that through my writing, I could create change." It doesn't mean that life will be perfect for her, now that she's picked up a pen. But it's true that she's found her voice, and that's something nobody can take away from her. You can watch all of the ReachOut films at their Youtube channel here.
_I love knowing that you can change the world and have fun doing it. If you've been reading this blog recently, you already know what's up - it's Wellness Wednesday at CUAV, and this week I'll be helping facilitate as LGBTQ survivors of violence gather for food, games, and art. Visit www.cuav.org for more info. Wellness Wednesdays are new to CUAV this fall, and so far, one of the best things about them is that they're so much fun. You might say that we have so much fun playing games, sharing food and creating art that we forget it's all for the sake of healing. But it's not so hard for me to believe. One big lesson I've learned from working with everyone from the community movers of POWER (People Organized to Win Employment Rights) to the young folks of The Beat Within is that creating social change can, indeed, be a whole lot of fun. At CUAV, we're building community power and helping each other heal, all with smiles on our faces. It's a beautiful thing.  Having fun reading at The Living Room Reading Series _Laughter is a big part of my life these days, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I've been feeling free to write with more humor, and that work has been showing up at readings such as Saturday Night Special and the Living Room Reading Series. In fact, I think doing readings is part of what's been pushing me toward humor. It's great to feel the audience respond, and if that response comes after the reading in the form of applause or compliments, that's great. But it's even better in the moment to feel the room on a journey through the work, and hearing laughter is one of my favorite ways to feel that. And I've been engaging more directly with humor through the Hermana Sisters, the comedy duo I've created with my good friend Elaine Gavin. While preparing for our debut performance at That's What She Said!, Elaine and I tackled some hard questions - How can we challenge what's offensive through humor without being offensive ourselves? Where do we draw the line between censorship and awareness? And what's more funny - Viagra or laxatives? We ended up taking on some of the subjects most important to us, all while laughing, and without crossing those lines we believe shouldn't be crossed. The most important thing, we reminded ourselves nervously as our debut drew closer, was that we were having fun. Still, there was a sense of something larger than that, an awareness that we would be both laughing with our audience and sharing perspective. Our tentative version of what the show's feature, Morgan, delivered in this hilarious, poignant stand up set from her point of view. See how we did as the Hermana Sisters here. It's easy to think that doing hard, heart-breaking work, like trying to help improve the lives of the world's most vulnerable people, would be a downer most of the time. Sometimes it is pretty sad. But the thing about creating change is that we're creating positivity, spreading the good news of better days just like we spread our smiles. Looking forward with laughter. More fun this week - Tomorrow, November 17, I'll be attending InsideStoryTime Twists and Turns, featuring an amazing lineup of Ishmael Reed, Frances Lefkowitz, Sona Avakian, Kenton K. Yee and Matthew James DeCoster. And on Sunday, November 20, I'll be celebrating my birthday with an afternoon reading at The Clattering Loom!
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.
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