A Shark Tale

Having to cut myself in order to be free very conflicting. 

Insanity according to my mother.

Being called she when you’re really mostly he

An insanely isolating pain. 

Surviving in an a vessel that doesn’t fully express you

is a deep slow gnawing at the soul, weighting down the mind type pain.

Feeling foreign in the only body you have ever known,

walking around fully invisible like he they refuse to see in she,

living between pink or blue 

constantly being punished and dismissed for giving zero fucks about pink or blue.

Can leave some thirsty for a dip in the shark tank 

dreaming for the relief of the shark’s bite.

To tare down to rebuild is as old as time.

This taring is a mending.

A racing towards death for rebirth.

Chest flexes in the mirror like a 30 year old teenage boi.

Long deep scars stare back at me, invoking my wild shark tale.

For leaning into her mouth  and surviving the

assault of the shark’s teeth some have called me brave. 

More like desperate. I felt so fucking desperate. 

Out of desperation I jumped into shark infested waters.

Out of desperation my body chose the surgeon’s knife, 

increasing the chasm between my mother and I,

becoming a stranger to my brothers,

and more of a mystery to lovers.

I wont justify my body or defend my choices.

Their eyes whisper Insanity

at the sight of my transgressive temple

I don’t have the words to explain

why I rather a scar than a breast

my insides cringe at the thought of  explaining my body

every time I have sex

I wont justify my body

How do I say I’m a man when the thought of you makes my pussy drip?

How do I explain to them that I am they, him and her but prefer he most of the time?

Their eyes whisper Insanity at the sight of my transgressive temple.

Next comes ignorant questions painting me into narrow boxes marked exotic, oddities, and experiments.

The tooth of a shark scraped my chest.

 I left my breasts behind on a surgeon’s table in Florida

He ripped away a complicated part of me

Pain like never before. 

Freedom.

Release.

I am healing.

Like never before.

They were ripped away so on paper I could be re gendered

When I  left them behind did I ditch the binary mythology or cosign it?

Today the M in place of the F is a new Mis gendering.

Did I reject my body or this society?

Did I dismiss, embrace, or redefine myself?

What else did I leave on the surgeon’s table?

What do I have besides just another cliché ass shark tale ?

Refining Tunes/Tools.

Letting go of the pacifiers and tools we have developed to survive is a daily challenge.  How does one move forward when the very things that once propelled you through  your darkest moments are now hindering you?    

Music is a big part of my self care practices. I have songs for everything.This summer I deleted most of the gospel music from my music library.  When I get really emo and home sick, missing my mother in particular, I fiend for my gospel hits. My mother put me on to Fred Hammond and my old soul gravitated towards Shirley Cesar and Betty Griffin Keller when I was teenager.  I think I love gospel music for the same reasons I love rap music, it is fantasy, myths, truths,  and reflections of the black experience wrapped in the drama and creativity that happens when Africans make music.  I think some call it soul. They both  weave stories of our lives with a boldness that   speaks to the core of what it means to be human. 

On the flip side I can only listen to but so much of both gospel and rap music because with those reflections come the legacy of violence, trauma , self hate, and all the other isms that color our experience as Africans in Amerikkka.  The music I’ve used to get through in the past can perpetuate the same things I’m working daily to unlearn and resist.

My use of gospel music as a coping mechanism and false sense of security was blocking my ability to develop sustainable tools for dealing with reality.  The tools that are instrumental to this thing called liberation. Its difficult to take the meat and leave the bones in any situation. There are still many songs both rap and gospel that I will use as tools of survival and inspiration but every now and than you gotta  clean house and reduce some harm.

Its a difficult tightrope I walk every time I click through my iPod.  Music is powerful it can indoctrinate you with your oppressors propaganda while showering you with the strength needed to step back from the myths again and again.

You Shine We Shine

We do not have to agree on everything for me to be your fan, supporter, and a person who enjoys seeing you do well. This is apart of what it means for me to practice solidarity. If we truly believe that our freedom and happiness is tied together across many intersections then when I shine you shine and vis versa. Competition can be fun but is often bred in us to keep us divi

ded. We have to intentionally work against the urges to compare and compete for profit over people. A common challenge to this are our own insecurities and ignorance of self. When you are ok with who you are you don’t need to compare nor do you feel threatened at others’ success. Now someone else’s success or shine at the expense of my peeps or liberation politic thats another story.

 

FreshRootbeer

Full Moon in Pieces got me all in my feelings.

Was telling her how much I miss her and this happened…

I can’t wait to kiss your lips and hold you close

feel you relax in my arms

In those moments we merge.

and its an honor being your safe space.

I don’t mind getting lost in you from time to time

My heart needs a regular dose.

Let me escape within our bond.

I need to escape into our love

It reminds some of the most broken parts of me

theres no healer like our black queer love

Theres no love like the melodies I feel in the arms of you…

a beautiful Black Womyn.

We are fun and around the way like FreshRootbeer

Country and comforting like Pickled Okra

Quirky and Dorky like GumbBall Cartoons.

Can’t wait to celebrate our love in person again soon.

This Isn’t About Bad Apples

I don’t know who killed that police officer or why. (You can’t believe everything in the media) Nor am I promoting killing random cops. However the killing of a police officer does not change the reality of how much damage policing has done to our communities. Fuck The Police! They are a home based military designed to protect capital and keep the american populous in line while continuing the genocide against poor, indigenous, black, and brown bodies. They operate daily as violent state sanctioned soldiers of imperialism, capitalists & the myth of white supremacy. As for the propaganda of a “a few bad apples in in the bunch” there are good people ignorant to these realities who believe that american policing is really about people who seek to use a badge to do good. Even that type of officer is part of the problem (good intentions and all) they are still giving their talents and energies to the service of a corrupt institution in the name of a corrupt murderous nation. Real good cops have the ability to divest from policing once they realize first hand how fixed the game is. Most stay and seek a way to profit while being used to do so much damage in the name of this imperialist genocidal government. We need to find alternatives to american policing and prisons. The So called “Rhetoric”will change when police stop killing, torturing,and harassing people in the streets.‪#‎SayAllLivesMatterAgainIfYouWantTo‬ ‪#‎FTP‬

suffering in silence

Some of us are suffering

in silence
we have to be strong for others

constantly nursing

rarely healing

its not okay to express our pain

so we wait silently in the wings
focusing on desperately numbing feelings

 

This Experience …

Feel like Ze
Passing as He
Never truly comfortable
As just she.
Forever lost without out her.

This experience

to toe the line
swim up and down the stream 
slide along the spectrum 
feel her in him 
while he is she 
but also they 

 

writing about writing

Sometimes I write about art and writing to get the creative juices flowing. Often I’m penning a pep talk to myself  and before I know it, my rambling is an ok piece on its on.

Art

Why because I am alive

Art is always happening

Songs inspired by pain

Painting with a love muse

you keep fighting  cause there’s a fight

And the sidelines are boring and irresponsible…

If they exist at all

We’re all in this together

Whether we like it or not

 

You must write

Everyday you soak in life

write it out on a page

Let the paper swallow your sorry

Let the ink splatter your joy across the page

Who cares if they get it

Who knows who will ever read it

Its for my sanity

It must be said

Holding it all in is slow gentle death

Like stomach cancer

I want to die but must live

I will write our way to freedom

 

When you’re an artist art doesn’t necessarily fall out of you

Easier than any other person

When you’re an artist

Art is a song you can’t turn off

It cries out to you begging pleading demanding

To be sung through you

Its up to you to decide to listen

To practice

to pursue

to risk

listen

To remain an open vessel through which it manifests

Again and again

Whether your listening or not the music is always playing

Poetry is in the air

Lyrics are always flowing

dive in

dirtyartboi -2013