last week i was determined to write. and i did, to the point that the journal was talking back to me. i am scared to write like that again cause i called you later and i am sure you thought i “lost it”. maybe i did. there is a reason my umma advised me not to write midnight letters and i think the same rule applies to talking about your feelings at 2 in the morning
yesterday an older woc friend held a new years party at her house. i was a little surprised at the folks that showed up, the company was comprised of mostly olders intellectuals with spectacles and white beards, a dashiki-wearing brother who writes (good!) erotica, and then me and another progressive friend. it was a really good time, though i should have been better prepared to talk about the economy, the war, the history of slavery in my town. there was this one white man who in every conversation would say “let’s ask the political scientist!” even after the fifth time, i would still look around not really wanting to believe he was talking to me (poli sci is my major). trust me, if i have something to say, i will… if i am quiet, it is because i do not feel a need to speak, am learning from you, taking you in, or am nicely mellowed out and do not want your politics to muddy up my drink. please do not tokenize me, i just want to have a good time.
today i stayed in bed and enjoyed the last day of winter vacation by texting loved ones half-asleep and trying to remember this dream i had where i was braiding this girl’s hair and she was telling me her husband would be home any minute (i was so badass in it). when i woke up, i watched a video that kai linked to, a video that featured babies young black men talking about sean bell and the effect of police brutality in their communities. i am now playing all these obama mixtapes on repeat, like that’s going to change reality. over and over again in the video, people talked about being shocked but not surprised… i want to go back to a place of being utterly surprised at every injustice, that pure kind of disbelief. i want to say “no, no, there is no way this could ever happen” instead of sighing sadly and saying “yes. that’s what happens with our criminal [in]justice system”, “that’s what happens when people sincerely do not believe you are even worth a breath of air, let alone healthcare, rights, access”, “that’s what happens with foreign policies, worlds, movements and economies carried on the backs of invisible people”…
because w/ that, really— how can one have the “audacity of hope”? i need to know how i can believe that there are better days ahead when i can’t even promise the person i am holding in my arms that tomorrow will be the end of this, the rising death toll of her family and people that look like her.
what do you do when you want to protect the people you love from the world, but distance and reality makes that impossible so all you can do is make silly “get fresh” dance anthems (it’s in the mail, girl) and write letters to them in a notebook that they will not see for weeks?
it makes me laugh that people are still coming to me and saying “thank you for your work in getting obama elected,” not knowing that all i did during his campaign is piss people off, talk about the limits of electoral politics, about a need to have a movement bigger than that, and read grace lee boggs, listen to mumia, and quote immortal tech. more than ever do i believe that power will never come from electing in a president, (though i am proud and supportive of work friends are doing w/ the obama transition team to make life better for folks).
i talk a lot about how our activism is not reactionary, that though we come to it largely because of our experiences, to say it is a response to dominant culture (“they just want to switch out who is at the table by putting themselves in power and oppress those that are not them“) or our own alleged bitterness* denies the fact that that our work and our dreams are rooted in love for people and our commitment to freedom. but of course believing in the beauty of our people, the goodness of our community, the potential of people coming together to build something amazing is something as simple as a response to you right? because our media, our radical childcare collectives, our community gardens, our online forums, our art, our poetry, our meetings, our potlucks, are just places where we come together to talk about how evil you are, how we want to destroy you?
god you’re so vain you probably think this blog post is about you.
