So it’s been a while sine I’ve written here, not because I didn’t want to nor intended to. I started many, well maybe not many, but a number of posts and for one reason or another didn’t complete them. I suppose I wasn’t moved by them enough to put in the effort. However yesterday, after conversations with my good friend, Rob Jenkins, (who is also a futurist writer & filmmaker), & Talecia Tucker (the dope ass genderblurring fashion designer & creator of Pretty Major) & the energy of the summer solstice, I felt inspired to write again.
For the past two seasons, (that’s how I prefer to mark time, by things that are bigger than us, that existed before and after us, as opposed to days/ months, etc. which is shit we made up. Also, it feels natural to me, which isn’t surprising since it’s what indigenous folks did/ continue to do), I’ve been hibernating. I hadn’t intended for this period to last two seasons, as I began this intentional mirroring of winter by spending lots of time by myself in my art cave, Djing, or the dims of my dance studio, finding solace in movement. I felt very peaceful during this time and accomplished soo much. I had my first few Djing gigs, (yes, even paid). My proposal, about the importance of teaching & assisting women artists to write about and own their work, was accepted and I get to travel across the country to present (for free!)
My first pole submission (a performance piece about the internal battle of gender & gender identity expressed through a fight scene with lightsabers on spinning poles) was accepted into a showcase. I had my first pole shoot & became a brand ambassador for a company that I identify with and feel good representing. I won a $5,000 scholarship at school. I created a new job at my dance studio, (as a blogger, imagine that) since my workstudy is over & I still need to take classes for free. I did my first spell. I became celibate, not thought necessarily on purpose, (I mean clearly I have no time to date anyone) and it’s been a good journey. I got a paid internship with an art nonprofit that works with artists to bring art into laundromats & other communal spaces in working class neighborhoods so the inhabitants can interact with art, and know it’s not something only for the wealthy in Chelsea. I meditated bunches & did lots of reestablishing relationships with ancestors. I accumulated hours with my shaman and reiki worker. I cried a lot as we were being murdered in the streets, I tried desperately to not get caught up in despair, I continued to dance & heal and heal others.
I taught my first self love/ healing movement class, and am in the process of teaming up with other dancers I know to teach in shelters, and am creating my own class to be (hopefully, if I can find the perfect space) be taught in Harlem for survivors of trauma/ sexual assault & the queer community of color.
That being said, once the solstice hit, something switched. Not that my momentum is going to stop, but I am ready to share. While hibernating, I was working and keeping me, well, primarily for me. It was apart of the process that needed to happen for me to blossom now. And blossom I am, It was like the summer sun grew something within me. It means I am ready to own my space, my music, my performance role, my teacher role, my storyteller and healer role. It means I am ready to claim these titles fully and make my story a heard one, because it’s one that matters.
I also had a huge revelation, just the other day. I’m still figuring out the whole social media, as self promotion makes me feel awkward and extremely vain, and insecure in a multitude of other ways. It’s easier to work through once I fully realized and internalized that this work is not about me. This is a story of the survival and thriving of a young girls (and boys & genderqueer folk too) who was sexually assaulted by someone they trusted, for people whose sexuality & gender expression is ever evolving, for folks who have an insurmountable love for all black and brown people, for those who are finally beginning to truly relish and own the sensuality of movement and being, and all my woman who can be the picturesque carefree black girl one moment and an Atlanta righteous ratchet princess the next. Art are meant for sharing, and this, my friends, was channeled to my by ancestors. And who I am to argue with them?
So I will be posting more and in more spaces. I think I am breaking out of this hibernation, so if you see me around, come speak, because I am still figuring all this out.