londytown- slideshow pt 3.

the end of my year:

-protesting, partying, queering and generally spending way too much with the LGBTQ soc. that sign said "goldsmiths lgbt against facism". when we realized our mistake, we covered it in red paint.
-berlin with rosie, being somber
-hen, rosie & em: half of the gang, being dumb @ a club.
-seth&rosie being kurt&courtney for the 90's party. i love that pic. they look so angsty.
-"suprise" g'bye party. haha, do i look surprised?

i love londy. i will be back to you so soon, you wonderful city, you!

yummy.

i've been craving poetry. when i crave poetry, i get an urge to scrape words off the page/screen, stuff them in my mouth, lick the remains off of my fingers. my mouth gets itchy and my stomach gets impatient.

poetry makes me antsy and excited- sentimental, too.

poetry makes me want to travel.

so tonight, while searching for a good poem, i also made these two lists:

list of places i want to live/visit for an extended period of time:

-london (top of the list for many reasons- one being all of the queer performers based in london that i am just NOW finding out about. i've already got a list of london grad schools saved)
-edinburgh
-paris
-berlin (i forgive you, let's try again)
-san fransisco
-portland
-kentucky
-philadelphia


list of places i want to travel to (that aren't on the list above):

-amsterdam
-marseilles
-barcelona
-rome
-hong kong
-tokyo
-india
-ethiopia
-cape verde
-brazil
-australia
-switzerland
-sweden
-kenya
-russia
-cyprus
-mexico
-arizona
-hawaii


yummy. give me poems, too. i wanna stuff my face with pretty words.

2009 slideshow pt 2

to be viewed from the bottom up.

february, my hair is gone. may, six flags has a section of the theme park dedicated to a horrific children's show. june, skrim mourns mj's death longer than anyone else on the block. a day or so later, dykes march in ny, we get rained on (AGAIN) & i show up to my internship soaked. july, najee & i spend too much time together aka punk dress up day. august, i finally see julia. helyx and i are twinz.

this feels like yesterday. i don't want to ever forget these things.

london soon.

a brief glimpse at my year- pt 1.

in no particular order: new years, cyree and i eat greens and blackeyed peas and watch the first night from my house. we also regret not being able to buy liquor. spring at hamp brings uni's play + finals craziness=anissa takes a cute photo. easter morning, our school bonds over beer kegs in a fire pit in the woods. end of janterm, ma leaves and i still miss her. middle of jan and somehow we find a way to drive to dc to hang out with obama. janterm motto: whiskey every morning, wo//men every night... aka band practice.

more soon.

random thoughts since being home

1- my little brother is really annoying.

2- tomorrow he turns 10, and i am hoping that the extra digit makes him less annoying.

3- cartoons have really lost their charm these days. are there any good cartoon or tv shows out there anymore?

4- i never want to be an adult on a children's show. i feel like that is an all-time low in an actor's career, one that you can never escape from, except through death.

5- i have officially begun writing a play. i have two scenes and an outline. i need to work on monologues and character development. i am too afraid to show it to djola or natalie- mostly djola because he frightens me.

6- the water is delicious here, especially compared to the nasty, cloudy water of new cross.

7- i really want to play kingdom hearts, but can't since i don't own the game OR a ps console. it's also hen and seth's faults that i want to play video games again.

8- i still feel sick, and am tired of being sick.

9- i am ready to be back at hampshire, but not ready to be homeless for a month.

10- moneyyyy... why can't i ever have it??

see guys? i told you i'd brb

my last londy vlog... of me at home, haha:

where oh where

has my green knapsack gone?

oh where, oh where could it be??

i lost it after zine making thursday night. i remember taking my backpack to the library, returning books, running to class, running to a lecture after class, taking my journal out of my backpack during the lecture... and then it all goes fuzzy from there. i imagine that i wouldnt have left the lecture hall without my backpack, seeing as how i had to sneak out early. i am pretty sure that i went into the common room in the union with it, where i sat on the couches. after that, things get fuzzy.

the bag is dirty and falling apart. why would anyone want it? where is it ???

what am i supposed to pack my computer and snacks in for the plane ride home???? WHY ME??

i am trying not to be too attached to material things, but this one's a bit hard for me. i have a feeling my last night in londy is going to be filled with worry, worry, worry.

...in other news, i am returning home with a suitcase full of dirty laundry. how "college student" of me!

poem for skrim

i realize i wrote this a lonnngg way back, say... early october, but never posted it. sorry, skrim. here you go:

"photo of a black woman in the stairwell of the goldsmiths library"

black body
spread out across the bed. all that is visible are
the mahogany brown legs, a
striking contrast against a
bright pink floral dress. the room is dimly lit and
the figure's head has been left out of the photograph.
not important, i guess. lately
when i look at photos i try to
search for the story behind it,
the reason that the artist was inspired to
capture that very moment forever.
i do not see any love in this picture-
instead i see coldness and fatigue.
i cannot see the figure's face and
i wonder if the artist couldn't as well.

there are so many black faces in this place,
many smiling, all of them comforting to me as i
try to navigate my way around this strange city.
so why would they behead this woman,
artificially hang her up on the otherwise bare white walls
of this institution?

give my mother back her face.


---

in other news... my body still hates me.

also, i have seven days left.

also, i am writing a play. i don't know if it's a work of fiction or another childhood confession.

also, i don't want to feel anymore.

that's all.

time sure flies..

and so does money, too... where'd those pound notes all go, did they just take up wings and fly right out of my pocket?

well. i have 11 more days left in lovely london.

i really like it here. im glad that i got to come to a place that was so drastically different from where i go to school. i like the urban environment, i like being able to take a bus or a train into central. i like being able to see the london eye from my study area in the library. and i definitely like walking down the street and seeing black people! that's something you don't see everyday in the p.valley. new cross reminded me of my home, but at the same time it didnt. it reminded me of brooklyn and philly... but at the same time it didnt. it had its own flair. and i definitely love how close it is to different countries, how traveling (as long as you have the money) can be so easy.

i don't want to leave. or rather, i want to come back and stay for a while.

i'm gonna miss the friends i've made here. they're all such major cuties. before i realized it, we made ourselves a little gang of 5, full of video games and bad music and lots of beer and dancing. its definitely not the group of people i thought i'd be close with, and we are all so different, but it sorta makes sense. we vibe off of each other well. i will especially miss emily, although i will never tell her that.

there are def a couple of people who i never got that close to, but wish i had the time to bond with. they will be sorely missed as well.

BUT- on the bright side, i will be once again reunited with my people, THE people. wonderful. can't wait to kiss the hampshire sky.

trying to find some words

when im in a weird mood, i write. so here- some works in progress, maybe i'll edit them later, who knows.

what to tell you about london (for c.jarelle):

i am pretty sure that the squirrels are fatter here.
they sit on their hind legs slovenly, daring young schoolchildren to get close,
waiting till the last moment to scurry away from their cautious advances.

most students here look like balls of hair growing from toothpick sticks.
skinny hipster legs accentuated by bone-tight jeans or lackofpants
curly mops cut in strange, asymmetrical patterns, usually with
a buzzed patch on one side, or in the back, the rest
spiked curled gelled dyed (mostly a bright burgundy red, the kind of
kool-aid color everyone went for in 10th grade to prove that they were
red-blooded rebels).

people rarely touch here. i think this
is what bothers me the most. there is an
unspoken rule- there is never to be any touching.
not even amongst friends, not even accidentally,
maybe if you are dating, but even that is looked down upon
with a silent disdain. touching is only for new, inexperienced lovers
who don't know better yet.

here, the wind is indecisive.
there are some november mornings that feel just like
early spring. the sun shines and birds peep, and it is always enough
to convince me to leave my house with very little. by three,
the sun begins to set and so does the cold. the wind blows hard
and unforgivingly, like a bitter woman out for blood.
her stage whispers turn to screams of agonizing loneliness,
and the truth of this is what chills my bones the most.


----

"yes, you are a lion, but there is some judas in you, too"

how do i greet the natty dread who hangs around the
front of my favorite jamaican restaurant?
he greets me with a slight nod, but the
look in his eyes betray the gloss of unfamiliarity.
i know the words but they stick in my throat.
jah bless, breddrin.
i wonder if he would be surprised, the greeting stumbling clumsily
out of my mouth, old accent of my youth peeking through my front teeth.
or maybe he would laugh at this strange, awkward bodied boygrrl thing,
who gave up their crown of dreads for oversized button-downs and some
strange longing for wimpyboi androgyny.

[...]

don't be like your sister when you grow up, my mother warns him.
the way she's headed, she's only asking for trouble.

My Gay Zine

So I forgot to tell you guys that I am helping put together a zine for the LGBT(Q) society.

(oh we also had our queer discussion and it's looking like we're gonna add it, but it's serious business here- they have to go to some student union higher up people and ask and its a big deal.. aaannyyways

Yes. So I am making sure people submit, putting it together, and I also wanted to submit something. A memoir piece. At first I was going to write about how I am my Daddy's "lil grrl" still, and how, even though he believes that still, I knew when I was 13 (and fooled around on his couch with the grrl next door- whoops, sry dad!) that I could no longer be that.. and how I feel like I'm lying to him, because he thinks I'm some sweet daughter who's still stuck at the age of 7. Right. that piece never got finished, although I still think it needs to be written. I will hopefully upload that soon enough. But here's the piece I was thinking about using. I am probably going to cut it- a lot, since I get really self-absorbed (gasp- who me?) and go on and on about myself and my gender (again!!). But I feel like this is the most updated, best way that I understand myself and my gender and sexuality right now. So tell me what you think and if I should put it in the zine.

-----

why i use they:

"Stokely," my flatmate Jenny slurred drunkenly one night, holding a delicate hand-painted teacup in her hands. "I heard a rumor, but I don't want you to get mad."

I leaned against the wall, trying to keep my face and body composed, all the while bracing myself for what she was about to say. Jenny always keeps me updated on flat gossip, and I knew that if she had a question for me, it was because I had somehow come up in conversation. As far as I know, my heterosexual, teenaged flatmates only ever gossip about me when it comes to two topics: My sexuality/gender, or the sexuality/gender of my friends who make it a habit to rarely come over and visit.

"Amy and Dion were talking," Jenny continued. "And I just want to know so I don't offend you... but they said you used they. Instead of she. And, like..." she trailed off, waiting for me to explain.

"Yes, I do. Although at this point I don't mind if you use she." I smiled to show that I wasn't upset, and headed for the door.

"Okay, because I didn't want to offend you," Jenny called out behind me, as I stepped out into the hallway. I gave a quick wave and headed back to my room.

This type of conversation doesn't bother me. In fact, I love talking about queerness, my exploration of my transgender identity, and anything else about my life, for that matter. But that night, I was a bit bothered by the fact that this was the second night in a row that Jenny asked me this. It is not her fault- I know how much my flat loves to drink during the weekdays, and I am sure that morning, she probably forgot about our short chat. However, I feel like whenever I mention my pronouns to people, or make attempts at explaining my gender, people hear what I am saying, but very few people are listening. No one else has the excuse of drunkenness.
---

At my school, it is common for people to change their names, and if there is any confusion about someone's gender identity, people rely on the pronoun "they" as a safe way to reference them.

Did you see So And So at the party? Yeah, they are a total hottie, but I think they have a theyfriend.

It can get a bit confusing sometimes. But even back home, I feel like they is constantly used as a gender neutral thing. I don't feel confused or neutral about my gender. In fact, I have begun to refer to myself as a genderfluid, or genderplural person. My confusion comes into play when it comes to deciding how I want to portray my gender to the world.

At the end of my first year, I began to collect vests. I learned quickly in high school that binding was never going to work for someone with such a large chest as mine, and sports bras only called attention to their size, rather than concealing them. So for me, wearing vests was my way of hiding the part of my body that I felt the least comfortable with. Halfway into my second year, I cut my hair and began to use my taken name more frequently .

At first, people did not know how to react to such a drastic change. Did I feel like I was trans? Was I thinking about transitioning? I was starting to adjust to my own body, and did not know how to answer people's questions, let alone my own, about my newly discovered identity. All I knew was that it felt right in that moment to change.

I tried to experiment with my new look by dressing more masculinely. I thought that this would feel right, because people began to treat me more like a "little man." At parties, I became more of the aggressor- I would dance with people only if I could take the lead. When I came home from a long day, I would demand that one of my female friends take care of me, or cook me dinner. I was testing the waters with this newfound masculinity, and I always got my way. My friends will never admit to it, but in a way, they loved it, and nurtured this chauvinistic behavior of mine.

But still, I didn't feel at home in this identity. I didn't feel like this is how I wanted to portray my male side, a part of me that I knew was very real and needed to be expressed.

Hampshire College, Mon. February 2nd, 2009 12:11AM.
My hair-
its gone.

Cutting my hair didn't make me want to be the aggressor. For me, it was a very vulnerable act, and I felt the need to affirm my ability to have short hair and be read feminine. I wanted very much to be cute. So I began to dress up, in private. At night when I had trouble sleeping, I would put on dresses that I borrowed from my friends, and wearing my finest jewelry, I would pout and pose in front of my mirror. I would spend hours tip-toeing back and forth from my room to the bathroom, carefully applying shiny lip glosses and eye shadows.

Soon, I discovered the wonder of scarves, and began collecting colorful cloths made of silk, and adorn my neck, hair and back jean pockets (right side, thank you very much!) with them. I have come to realize that by cutting my hair, I found a way to liberate my femininity, but to also make it "dirtier", and to "queer" it as well. My previous discomfort with my femininity was because before second year, I always associated "femming up" with me attempting to pass as straight -usually because of family events. I didn't know how to be "girly", because I always did it in an attempt to mislead my family into thinking that I was a well-behaved, normal, God-fearing girl.

Although this new-discovered feminine side of me was comforting, and fun to explore, I still felt a longing to be masculine as well. In fact, it was more than a longing- it was a need. Many times, I feel as if I am not fully in my body. This feeling of body dysphoria is a result of a long list of components, but it became painstakingly clear to me that one of the main reasons was because of my gender. It is like having an internal switch sporadically change from "girl" to "boy", and I have no control over it. It usually starts off with simple things, like not knowing what clothes to wear, or how to fix my hair that day. But sometimes, it can affect bigger parts of my life, like forgetting my name, or not knowing where I am or who I am with (I associate my different names with locations- for instance, I know I am at home with my family, because I am never referred to by Stokely there, whereas I am only called "Stokes" when I am in a setting with peers my own age).

My masculine identity is still a work in progress. However, I have noticed a trend. I feel the most assertive and manly when I am surrounded by gay men. In other words, I feel like there is a part of me that is a very flamboyant, borderline drag queen-esque gay man. This is when I feel the most comfortable with my masculinity, and although I can't put it into words, I can usually feel it usually in the lower part of my body. It affects the way I stand, the way I walk, the way I think.

I think that my gender identity manifests itself in the type of people I like. In female bodied people, I usually go for (well, other than emotionally unavailable and stuck up) very androgynous types, leaning more towards masculine-presenting- in a wimpy boy kind of way. However, with male bodied people, I am also attracted to androgyny, but lean more towards effeminate men. What can I say, this genderfuck exclusively likes other genderfucks.

"i will fall in love with a gender slip into it like a bath."

I am not a boi, grrl, butch, femme, anrogyne, cis, kiki... but at the same time, I can be any of these genders at any given moment in time. Not to mention a whole other list of genders that I don't even know about yet. So, you see, I don't use the pronoun "they" to be pretentious, difficult, radical, anti-British, or quirky. I use they because I am a mixture of a lot of different genders, names, and sometimes even people, and that can change at any given moment. I am hoping that one day, my mind will make a decision and stick to one gender and one pronoun. Something comfy and soothing, like a nice hot bath after a long, rainy day. But until then, let's just stick with good ole' "they"- the consistency is nice for a change.

just some thoughts

sorry i haven't been updating this thing. but here is something i wrote:

"types"

i have a friend here who only likes black grrls.

she told me this, awkwardly,
in the smoky club where we sat down
waiting for the others to get back with
their drinks. "it's something about
the afro," she smiled, trying to pass it off as a joke.
i was silent, just drunkenly looked at my shoes
anxious for time to pass.

my friends also say i have a type,
i'd like to think its self-conceited
and emotionally not there, although
it would be more realistic to say
race and gender neutral- but only
"in that sort of way." i wish i didn't
have a type, but i am all too familiar with
how my heart skips a beat when i get a glimpse
of dark curly hair, thinking maybe this one,
maybe this time.

a few more updates

Hey guys-

I know have been totally shit abt keeping in touch. I apologize. First, I want to say that if you have sent me a letter, please let me know when you sent it! I haven't gotten anything yet because there is a postal strike here, which has been slowing down the mail. This is really upsetting for me, because I ordered a bright pink party wig and if I don't get it by Halloween, I will be very disappointed.

Things are good. I know that some of my updates can lead people to believe that I am having a horrible time and want to go home. I feel like I have settled in a lot more, and am feeling less anxious abt social things (although, let's be real- it's me, I'm always going to be anxious//nervous).

I am going to start a project that I will take back to Hampshire and create into a performance art//one-person show (hopefully). I was reading a book called "Queers in Space" which was all about the history of queer spaces, queer visibility in public spaces, queer bodies as queer spaces, etc... I really liked some essays in this book. It reminded me of the photo pieces that Cheryl, Sarah T and Maddy did for the Black History Month Show two years ago. I remember there was a quote from Sarah where she talked about how there was usually an assumption made when people looked at a picture of a public space- people tended to assume that this space was a white (& heterosexual) space. She mentioned that she wanted to challenge that. I want to do the same, but use theatre and performance art as my tool. So I want to think abt queer identities, and how we relate to these spaces- whether they be "traditional spaces" like home, school, etc. or public spaces like walking down the street, or virtual spaces like media and the internet, or our own bodies, ie- how we feel abt them, how we treat them, etc.

So I am hoping to do interviews, transcribe them, be inspired by them, and write monologues, poems.. or just do some weird installation with them. * I also have to tip my hat to Ashley & Uni for doing similar projects to me and doing them extremely well.I have a lot to live up to.* I might actually "install" bodies in public areas, make people do living statue-esque things... I don't really know. All I know is that I hope this all goes well and that I don't offend anyone in the interviewing process.

I also need to find a way to make sure that the group of people I interview is a diverse group, rather than just my friends (although I recognize that the data is already biased because I am asking people from academia- and all one specific school with a very specific type of education.)

Gah. This will be an interesting project. I am very nervous. But still excited. I realized yesterday that I have three pages worth of questions. I also realized that questions that might be deemed as appropriate to ask at Hampshire might not be taken as well here. So I am also trying my best not to offend people.

But enough of that. Let's talk about interesting things.

My flat has gotten at least five or six notes from the cleaner (YES THEY HAVE CLEANERS HERE- they take out the trash, sweep the floor, vacuum the hall and wipe down the counters... even though the dumpster is right in front of our flat... what. the...).
SO I believe that the cleaners have decided to take our dishes. Yes. They take them and throw them away. And although it sucks, I don't think that it will have ANY effect on the condition of our kitchen. I think that they're just going to buy more plates... It's so strange. Living in 52 last year was disgusting, and we did get in trouble for it at the end of the year (didn't we get fined?). However, we AT LEAST would bring our dishes to the sink. Our problem was that the dishes would no longer FIT in the sink.

We have a "family dinner" every Sunday, and everyone takes their time cooking. Adorable, right? Except that after this Sunday, all of the flatmates looked at each other, looked at the mess that we had all made, and just got up from the kitchen and left. I was SHOCKED. How in the hell...? They didn't even scrape their plates. And a lot of that food (well, the dishes that I didn't wash... I did 6 full sink's worth of dishes) is still on the kitchen table, unless the cleaner threw it away as promised. Craziness. I wonder why I always end up living with people that are a lot of fun and sociable and enjoy doing thing together, but ABSOLUTELY HATE cleaning or being tidy..? I wonder why I can't get the best of both worlds..? Maybe it's cuz my friends are so damn crazy? I dunno.

That's it for now. My life is muy aborrido. Tell ME things instead.

IT NEVER DIES

OH. MY. GOD.

seriously, this is a slap in the face. since when is blackface only hurtful to americans? what about black people in their country? this is horrific and i am appalled that anyone would think that it is an insult just to americans, or that blackface is just having a "bit of fun". i am also ashamed that america ever created such a horrible pasttime. man. sometimes i think, why do i study minstrelsy? don't people know the history? and then i watch things like this AND I KNOW.

vlog number i've lost count now.

yes, i was a bit of a debbie downer last night. but still.

who the hell am i and how did i end up here?

hey guys.

i am sorry it has taken me a while to post anything, or to even do a video update. there is so much i want to talk about, so much i want to tell and share with you all, but for the past few days, i have felt very pent up- constipated creatively (sorry for the shitty -no pun intended- mental images). i am actually surprised that i feel up to writing today, but this is going to be very frazzled, so bear with me.

i have been very unsatisfied. my loneliness//homesickness is showing through me constantly feeling restless and sleep deprived. its hard because i feel like i need to spew out feelings and words and thoughts with people, and am so used to being able to go lay/complain in najee or mikayla's bed or smoke a cig on the stoop with skrim or send stupid texts, saying "nyah nyah nyaaah" to helyx or just generally be around c.jarelle all the time. plus i learned that it is hard to fall asleep when you are not hogging yr best friend's covers. i miss being at hampshire, but i don't feel like i am in a place where i can be there. i kind of want to go back, back a couple of semesters and start from there again. but its different now. hampshire feels different and i feel different.

i am constantly having identity crises. i have explained it to some people before, but i have a couple of names, and they all suit me at different times. sometimes i feel very much like a stokely or a jd, but at other times i feel very much like a damali too. sometimes, i am forced into a specific name, like on the first day of school, or when i go home for breaks, and this makes me very disoriented for a couple of days. but i think that when i decided i was going to go by jd stokely, i assumed that this was my "boy name". under the "about me" section of this blog, i originally had something along the lines of "m. hopper likes flowers and dresses and she dislikes ______. jd stokely is a fratboi wannabe and he likes ______." i think i automatically put my different names//ways of expressing myself into neat little boxes. i thought that when i was stokely, i had to be soo masculine, and to be honest, i think there are a lot of times where i overdid it. i think i felt like i had to compensate for something, like i had to show how macho i was because by "turning my swag on" i could forget abt how big jd's bra cup size is, as well as forget how that might affect the way that they function through the world. i often caught myself thinking really misogynistic thoughts, like feeling possessive//protective over female friends. i think that sometimes my friends might have unconsciously fed into that not-really-still-a-little-boy-not-yet-a-grown-man mentality that i had by coddling that forming black masculinity. in the end, i kind of exhausted myself out.

when i left new york at the beginning of august, i had to prepare myself mentally for "becoming damali". i think over a month of it really threw me off, especially since i came to london right after being home. a lot of my clothes reflect that month of being home. i have a lot of flowy scarves, a dress or two, shiny ballet flats. at first i was uncomfortable with wearing those clothes, many of them hand-me-downs from my mother. then i began to take every day as a drag performance. instead of fighting against the dresses, i would wear them with red lipstick and tiny cardigans. it was a fun game, but then i would obsess with what i was going to wear the next day. i would wake up in the middle of the night and try on clothes, have my own personal fashion show. i would put on the clothes, take time putting on lots of makeup and jewelry, turn on all of the lights and take pictures on photobooth. i know that sounds strange- mostly because it is. i would spend hours doing this every night, and i couldn't sleep unless i did it. whenever i took off the clothes and wiped off the makeup,i always felt like i had just spent the night cross-dressing, like what i had just done was bad.

by the end of august, i felt very confused. i didn't feel comfortable wearing more masculine presenting clothes, and even if i wanted to, my mother would always have something to say. i also didn't feel like playing the part of my mom's cute straight, girly daughter (i notice when i go home and try to "pass"- sadly, i have been guilty of doing this- i always interpret "girly" or "straight" as very cutesy, frilly, young-looking.") i decided that i wanted to experiment more with what feminine meant to me through clothing, but thought that i didn't want to do it for anyone's sake but mine. i wanted to find ways to express my queerness and my femininity. one night, i discovered that i wanted to king it up for a bit, and created the persona (another one, i know) of franklin, or "frankée fierce". i never got to fully flesh out this persona, but for me, i discovered that one way that i could express my femininity and my masculinity was through the persona of a gay male. i think that there is a side of me that is very much a gay man, but that is beside the point. unfortunately, i have not had a chance to explore frankée more, but he comes out occasionally.

but, anyways. i am in london. i am still feeling bottled and confused.

i think that this is mostly because i really lack a home base. i want someone i can vent to, someone i am close enough to who will listen to my crushes and stupid, slfish complaints abt gender, and generally spend all my time with. i know that it is selfish, but i really feel like i need a good friend right now, and i know that it is hard to just befriend people, but it feels like everyone else has found that here already. i feel like i am doing something wrong, and i keep thinking- i am only here for 2 1/2 more months. i am running out of time for friendship. the time is going by so quickly, but it also feels like it is going by so slowly because i am so alone. it drives me crazy. my flat is lovely- i really enjoy spending time with everyone in it. however, they are all straight and 18/19 and have very crappy, liberal lovey-dovey politics. in fact, the video i am working on right now is called, "can we please not talk politics? i want to still respect you in the morning." harsh, i know, but i have yet to find conversation that i feel pushes me forward. i feel like i am back in that white//str8 place where i have to be the educating token queerblackfriend. and i don't like it at all. i don't even have good politics! i am still working on myself and i want people who can help me work on myself, recommend good essays to read and call me out on my shit or call me out on not calling others out on their shit. what im really saying is that i want you guys here. i have a queer friend but it is always so hard to find him//hang out with him because he is always herethereeverywhereandnowhere, yes, like freddy. i also dont know him that well, although he promises me a day of hangingout, listening to queercore and eating pie.

i have even been to the library and taken out 6 (i originally htought it was 7 but i realiz now that i miscounted) books from the library, only one for class and the rest all abt queer theory. the ones that i am the most excited abt reading are black queer studies, queers in space, and feminist and queer performance. the only downside is that it has been so long since my brain has done anything academic, and i need someone to help me digest it all (the one queer conversation that ive had here that i was excited abt was for five minutes in the middle of a gay club during a katy perry song that i sat down for in protest and i could barely hear them over the music. they also no longer go to goldsmiths. i also havent seen them since.) i am surrounding myself with piles of books so that i can flip through pages to find one image of me or at least one sentence of something familiar. its not working- i just feel tired all the time from all the readings.

AND SO, IN CONCLUSION-

the actual reason i started writing this note. i feel very lonely and miss my people//community. you guys are my roots. because of this, i am constantly in a very hazy, vague state of mind, also causing me sleep deprived nights, while also always making me tired. i also feel like i haven't been able to express myself creatively or verbally, which is why i haven't updated as much (via email, letters, vlogs). I also feel like it is affecting the way that i express my gender//identity, and i have no idea what name i am at right now, or how i should-or want to be- dressing or who i should-or want to be- seeking out for company. i also spend way too much time on facebook, and have been looking at old pictures of myself- reminiscing abt who i was in the different stages of my life, who i am now, who i will be. i start thinking, maybe i should have grown up to be this way, or, when did i start looking//acting like that? i am excited abt this trip and glad to be here and am enjoying myself, but i am anxious to find people to share it with.

and with all that said, i will definitely try to start writing again, there are more poems for people coming up, as well as vlogs, emails, etc. love you all, thank you for reading this through. i'm not quite sure if it makes sense, since it was an hour-long ramble!

** oh, and here is the picture that started this whole train of thought!! me, at 16.
**

a poem for h.helyx

first roll call of the year (space-body-spectator) [w.i.p]

i absolutely dread roll call- having to explain that
no, stokely is not some new, hip way of announcing my presence,
like instead of saying "here" or "that's me", kids in the states
call out names of dead revolutionaries- karl! huey! che!
it took me two whole fucking minutes to get ms. professor to understand me:
"Ess.. Tee.. Ohh.. Kayy.." , like spelling it out
is going to make me less embarrassed.

before this morning, only four people knew my real name.
now i can just taste the questions brewing in my classmates minds:
"why did you change it? i like your old name better.
isn't yr real name good enough?"
all i can do is smile and say,
the story is long and too complicated,
because thinking abt how my personal decisions
translate in this new place is complicated.

i need some space away from these people and their
snarky (if not well-intentioned) comments about
my gender and my body and name-
i am not a spectacle, my life story is not
a book to read for your entertainment.
in class, i feel nothing but uncomfort, apprehensive of interacting with
baby drama nerds sprinting and twirling around the stage,
as if they were born to be dancers.

i do not trust anyone in this room.

i do not owe anything to anyone in this room.

a poem for charlie t.

flight fright (w.i.p)

i.

when i looked out the window
of the moving greyhound bus,
there was a plane that
seemed to be frozen in midair,
big fat metal sparrow wings trapped
in a faulknerian sort of time zone.
it soon turned & took off, as if
that second between gravity and clouds had
been my own creation.

i read somewhere that if you catch 100 planes between yr hands
and make a wish, it will come true.
the plane looks different from my hand, like
i could close my fist, and crush every-
thing and everyone on board. It
makes me nervous that my
life will soon be suspended
on a string-
cradled by a child's palm.

ii.

a kind american couple
told me not to worry.
they were headed towards iceland
for their honeymoon-
"i never flew before i met him,
and now i've traveled all over the world."
she smiled and grabbed his hand,
as if that was going to comfort me.
of course, if you die today, you'll be in the arms of
the one you love.
i have too much to live for:
there's a whole other time zone to travel too,
and what the hell is in iceland anyway,
other than glaciers and blonde stewardesses
who remind me of swedish models named frieda.
seeking comfort, i welcome jeff mangum's kisses on my eardrums
and hope for sweet dreams amongst the fat puffy atlantic clouds.

Trans H8 Crimes in the P.Valley

You guys probably know more abt this than I do.. but somebody from Hamp please fill me in more on what happened.. and what we're gonna do abt it!?!

http://genderagenda.wordpress.com/2009/09/24/anti-trans-violence/

London, BRB....

Hey gaiz.

So I'm in London. WHOOOOO...! I made a vlog abt it. Check it.



Also, here are a couple of things that have been on my mind since I've gotten here.

People keep shittalking the neighborhood here. They say its horrible, but as far as I'm concerned, it's pretty nice. I feel safe, and there's a Jamaican restaurant around every corner. I've explored a bit, and there are also lots of stores and a bus and train station not even 5 minutes from my flat. But what makes it such a shit neighborhood? The fact that it is in a city? The lack of boutiques? The abundance of black ppl and other poc? Most likely. I think that even though London is an extremely diverse city, class is definitely going to be interesting. I think in a month or so (when my money's run dry!), I'll really be able to see who's loaded. It's so expensive here.

I am also the only black student and only queer student in my flat. GAH! It can be annoying, but I think that I will slowly but surely find the gaiz. So I' not too worried abt it.

Other than that, i really do love it. The neighborhood reminds me of a mixture between Brookyln and Philadelphia. But that's just me. It feels busy and fast paced like BK, but still spacious like Philly.

I want classes to start, though. Unlike HC, there is no week full of orientation. And although ppl are doing alright meeting other students, I feel behind socially. It's been relaxing, being able to just BE and breathe and think abt everything. Relax before throwing myself into classes, etc. But I do like orientation things cuz it helps you meet folx.

Oh! I almost forgot. It's so weird, but the classes are structured like this: Professor comes in and gives a lecture aka talks for an hr str8, then leaves. Then Doctorate students come in and talk abt what the Prof talked abt in a seminar- more group based. Then you meet w. a tutor one on one (optional). And that's what classes are like. Where is the interaction btwn prof & student? Where is the space for questions and challenging profs, etc? Weird, huh? I'm hoping that since I'm in mostly drama classes, the class structure will be totes different. Hmm, who knows.

Anyways. That's what's up with me. Oh, and I haven't found a pick yet so my hair looks wretched. And I'm running out of shea butter. Although I did find some hair oil- yes! And some Captain Morgan- double yes!

Hey, if you think I don't have yr email//skype//snail mail addresses, leave em in comment form. Otherwise you can't bitch abt me not keeping contact. I'm gonna try to step up my game but we'll see, yep yep.

Love yall!!! Can't wait till I have some good stories to share.

Best.

gender wtf.. again

http://hiphopwired.com/8930/caster-semenya-gender-test-results-expected-in-weeks-gets-makeover/

upsetting. why are they making her take a friggin test?? can someone explain that to me? isn't that harassment or something?

Vlogs and Secrets Revealed!

Yes. A third one. Is my life actually that interesting? Nope. Not really. But is there anything else to do? Nope. Not really.

I also have a confession to make, one that has been weighing on my mind for a while now:

During the day, I am dormant, but at night I can't sleep. The moon shines too brightly, the outside world is too quiet, everything in my house is too still. I spend my nights pacing up and down the narrow hall, searching the rooms, looking for forgotten treasures. In my mother's room, I find a huge closer full of flowy dresses and white stones to wrap around my neck. Somehow playing dress up calms me. After twirling and practicing red-stained smiles in the mirror, I slip the clothes over my head, unclasp the jewelry and wipe the lipstick off with the back of my hand before anyone wakes up to find out what I've done.

In short, I spend my nights crossdressing. In women's clothes. It's weird, right? I know. But I gotta say, in the moonlight, I make a cute grrl. :)

G.I. Jane... watch it, but don't expect much.

When I first sat down to watch GI Jane, I was sitting in Chris' room, blazed out of my mind, and, well.. we just watched the workout scenes. Over and over and... over again. Amazing. So while I sat in my house today, sober and bored out of my skull, I decided to watch the whole movie, from beginning to end. It was a lot different than what I expected. I mean, firstly, I figured that there would be more workout and shower scenes. But I didn't expect the "friendly" sexism and homophobia that came with the movie as well.

For those of you that don't know, G.I. Jane is a movie about a woman named Jordan O'Neill who undergoes Navy SEAL training as a test case to see whether or not women can serve in combat. In the beginning of her training, it is obvious that there is a double standard, and she confronts her higher officers about it, convincing them to treat her just as equally as one of the guys. In order to prove that she is serious about the training, she even shaves her head (gasp), moves into the same sleeping quarters as the men (double gasp), and has a ten minute montage of her doing one handed push ups (!!!).

Meanwhile, her boyfriend back home, who is also apart of the Navy (but not in training with her) is concerned, fast forward button... One of the hardest training scenes is the SERE training, which is an enactment of what it's like to be in combat- they get "kidnapped" and she gets beat up by her master in chief... yadda.. she basically gets her ass kicked, but manages to become "one of the guys" when, instead of giving up, she tells her master in chief to suck her dick. ("Suck my dick." - Lt. O'Neil) The guys all respond with cheers and hooga hooga hoogas ("Hooga, hooga, hooga!"- SEAL trainees) and then they go out for drinks.

After going out for drinks with the fellas, Lt. O'Neil goes to a late night barbeque with a fellow woman officer (also not in training- idk what she actually did, but it wasn't combat). This part of the movie is a bit fuzzy, but I am PRETTY SURE that this other woman is a total lez and is hitting on GI Jane something fierce. Besides, the BBQ ended up being an all women's party on the beach, where they drank beer and had a gay ole time.

So, while all of this is happening, the woman Texas senator is blackmailed to make GI Jane fail, so she has a photographer take some pictures. These pics get back to GIJ's superiors, they accuse her of being a lez, GIJ refuses this, she is asked to leave, she goes home and makes out with her man (remember, she is NOT a homo) she confronts the senator who makes it all go away.. fast forward... GI Jane is back in action! And then the trainees all see some action! They go to Libya and shoot at some brown people, Demi Moore saves the troops and finally earns her wings. There's a book, a look, and then some credits.

Whew.

Now here's my ish with the movie. It had a chance to grapple with some really tough issues: women in the military, LGBTQ people in the military, gender roles, even racism in the military. But instead it gives all of that up in order to show Demi Moore at bootcamp. I mean, yes, this was the 90's and Demi was still smokin, but come on! For example, while confronting the Texan senator, Demi's character "So you think women's lives are more valuable than men?" Apparently, the Texan's argument about why women shouldn't be allowed in the Navy SEALS is that they are too valuable. But GI Jane, can't you see that she wasn't belittling the value of a man's life, but instead in the scene was comparing women to property? Shouldn't the issue here be that women aren't being allowed to make their own decisions about what to do with their lives, and their careers?

Another issue is the "suck my dick" scene. This is obviously a pivotal moment in this movie. Oh my GAWD, Demi Moore just told him to SUCK her DICK! This is the moment where she really becomes one of the guys! But why not suck my clit? kiss my cunt? or even choke on my strap on? No?

Oh, and when it comes to race... I mean, the last fifteen minutes is then shooting and killing brown people in a brown country. However, there is also the token black soldier, Morris Chestnut, or "McCool" as he is known in the movie. On top of this, they have this fine black man give his nod of approval to GI Jane in a short monologue. He tells a sad story about how his grandfather was refused a position in the Navy because he was black. He then tells GI Jane : "So see O'Neil, i know where you're coming from, you're just the new nigger on the block." Hm. Well. A part of me wonders if they threw that in just so they could get away with saying "nigger" at least ONCE during GI Jane. Or maybe it's like how gay is the new black. Except she's not gay, because the movie also likes to reiterate this point as well. So... being a woman is the new black?

Finally.. the homos. Where are they? Why can't this main character be gay? And if she's not, why does the movie keep hitting us over the head with the fact that she's straight? One of the first shots of the movie is GI Jane in the bathtub, sharing suds with her manfriend. She makes a snooty remark about how they're probably going to think she's a dyke. Fast forward... they accuse her of being a dyke. She confronts them about it. (Are you accusing me of being a LEZbian?) They don't say yes, but they do say g'bye GI Jane. Then she goes home and makes out with her manfriend again. There are even hints of sexual tension between her and the Master Chier (or at least from him to her). And you know... more manfriend love. Okay. She's not gay. But instead of being so APPALLED at the IDEA of being a lez, you use this time to talk about the way that homosexuality is looked down on in the military, and how rumors of her being gay are enough to threaten her position in the SEALS (as well as "embarrass the navy", a quote from the anonymous blackmailing photographer)? What ever happened to the other woman officer? She was also called in, but you never find out if she's gay. Le sigh.

GI Jane. The cover was so hot. But you let me down. You tried, but missed the mark when talking about gender in the military. You also fucked up with sexuality and race, go figure. But what can you expect when this movie was made in 1997? It's 2009, and don't ask don't tell doesn't look like it's going anywhere. But.. at least we have a month now? I hope this rant made sense. If not, then I hope that it at least inspired you to watch the movie and write your own review. And few your viewing pleasure, Demi Moore shaving her head:



And Demi Moore being tortured, and then telling MIC to suck ittt..:



Wiki info about Don't Ask, Don't Tell: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Don%27t_ask,_don%27t_tell

Annnnd.. finally... Demi Moore Interview with ET about the movie:



It seems like in order to talk about her role as GI Jane, they also have to talk about Striptease. I know they came out one year after the other, but still... Look, you saw her cut off her hair, now let's make up for it by watching her take off her clothes!

Damn. Fuck this, I'm gonna go watch that one handed push up again...

"le tour tourist"

...tis a day for bad poetry, i think.


"le tour tourist" to the blue schwinn in the basement

and here is the tunnel where pigeons come to die.
it smells damp and earthy, like suffering and mold.
i once thought i saw a large skull in the underpass,
but soon realized that it was nothing more than a rock;
mammals are too proud to die in such a pathetic place. it takes
all of ten seconds to ride through this spot on rick's abandoned bike,
five if i am going fast,
and three point seven if i am mad.

today i played a silent, angry game.
let's see how fast you can go and how hard you can pedal.
let's see how how much of yr weight this old metal frame can take,
and how much it can give back.
let's see if, if maybe you can work your thighs and
clench yr calves enough to escape the nervous feeling in yr stomach
and the taste of salt in the air from the river and
the smell of dirt and feathers under this tunnel.

number 2 !

I'm also thinking abt what the hell gender neutral means..? For female bodied people, does that mean androgyny equals looking like a "boy"? Does it mean short hair and no chest? Does this mean "soft masculinity" is a neutral? I also wonder if being in the valley, where the number of female bodied people is so high has anything to do with this view of genderqueerness and genderneutrality. But can one be gender neutral? Hm.

I call myself genderqueer because I think that there is a part of me that is gender plural, not neutral. I think that I can be man and woman, boy and grrl, and some weird slur of both. Sometimes I feel so lost, like I'm in some sort of daze, because people are calling me Stokely but I feel like I should be a Damali. Or vice versa. I dunnooooo... sometimes I also feel like I indulge in the feminine side of me only because I want to know if I can get away with it, if I can pass for what Damali is supposed to be. And so sometimes I feel more liberated as a Stokely, or as a more masculine-of-center presenting person because it is what I should not be- or makes me feel more visible, so that I don't have to talk so much but instead can just be. But I know that's not right either. I know that a lot of visibility depends on who's looking and what they want to see, as well as how you are presenting. I think for me, I need to find a way to disconnect femininity from what my family wants of me. I need to find a way for me to personally queer up my personal feminine side, rather than use it as a way to hide.

So, yes. They for me is a way to acknowledge Damali, J.D. Stokely, M. Hopper, daddy's little grrl, mommy's rabble-rouser, lil baby genderqueer, the 16 yr old bisexual, all of them with and without names.

Gah. I had other thoughts abt gender, but now my head hurts.

captain underpants

"granny panty blues" wed 8/12/09, 10:12am

my mother always sees it fit to
bless me with the gift of endless panties
bulky plastic packages filled with
high waisted, full bottomed granny drawers
while cute teen models on the label show off perfectly toned body parts
and perfectly clean-shaven coochies,
dancing happily in their brightly colored underwear.
i open my package to find enormous tents of
black, grey, white and "nude".
what am i supposed to do with these, i wonder
but instead think its best to drawl out a
"gee, thanks mom"
before running upstairs to shove the bottoms towards the bottom
of my panty drawer.
somehow, i always find myself, months later, looking for a fresh pair
and find nothing but the awkward grey ones with the band that's too loose
or the faded pink ones that are too short in the back
and i put them on begrudgingly, hoping that
no one decides to undress me with their eyes today
and knowing that i'll have to wear the unflattering jeans to match,
instead of the skin tight ones, all the while
wishing i wasn't caught in the awkward space of
yearning for the baggy freedom of boxers or
the slinky sexiness of lace and silk,
so although i'm stuck with grannies today
i think from now on i'll just commando.

first vlog.

written update later

interesting

stole this link from ghost. thanks ghost!



a lot of the books that ive read that talk about minstrelsy compare the hip hop industry, as it stands now, to modern minstrelsy. im not as interested in how black caricatures are portrayed through the music, but more the performance aspect. however, i want to get more into the "evolution" of the black image through music, ending with hip hop. that would be cool. more thoughts to come on that later.

...goodbye, new york.

i won't say goodbye officially until some time this week. i really need to get the hell out of this state. i lost my job, which sucks. the club i was working at decided that they would tell najee and i that they were closing for the month of august... during our shift. literally, hey it's been great but we wont be needing you anymore. so long, loser!

after a long sort of quick chat with cyree (and hir tarot cards) and a super quick chat with my mom, ive decided to ship back up to boston. how i will do this, im not quite sure. i dont really have the money to get back but i definitely dont have the money to stay here so i might as well leave while i can.

every day i ask myself, "how the hell am i getting to london in the fall?" im sure everyone who's close to me asks themselves the same question. ah. we'll see. hopefully i can blog from across the pond soon. i feel like there will be a lot of poetry waiting to be written in london. new york hasnt been much of a muse- probably because everything is so backwards here. every door ive (literally) had to open, i have to do it backwards. turn left to lock, right to open. its hard to call a place home when you cant even figure out how to open the door.

in other news, impromptu g'bye party tonight. fun times at lincy's... i think im gonnab e eating burgers and hot dogs for he rest of my life.. so many leftovers.

hello, america!

so it's been a while since i've updated this thing. i figured it was about time, at least for the novelty of being able to say "i updated my blog yah im so cool" blah. i must be getting very boring. i dont have much to say or much to write although a lot has happened, i'm sure.

im 20 now. whoo. i crave cheesecake and red velvet cake all the time, sometimes together. i have a job at a jazz club, although im still worried abt how im gonna make the rent. i still haven't been to philly. i found out my gramma is a gemini-cancer cusp (we think) today. that was pretty interesting. i could never remember if her bday was june 21 or july 21. according to my cousin, its in june. shame, cuz i would rather a july bday- seeing as how imtaking my gma's bday from now on. oh yeah, i guess thats pretty new and exciting. i have to verify the date tho.

i never intended for this blog to be some sort of diary thing- rather, i hoped it would be a place where i cold post my writings. but i haven't written i n about a month (the last thing i wrote that i can remember was for the qwoc writing group that i sort of quit). i write a lot in my head, but its such a bother to pick up a pen or to type something up. i feel very uninspired. very bored. one of my favorite games,though, is to write ppl letters. i do it alot and if i promised you a letter way bck, say... in may, i apologize abt not getting it to you. i have a letter to a friend thats been sitting on my kitchen counter for abt a month now, so sad. i need a day when i can just go tot he library and knock some shit out- although i havent been tot he library at all lately. no reason, except for a lack of time.

i have become a sleepy cat who would rather be in dreamland. my dreams are always so vivid and intricate that i really wish i could remember them when conscious.

i am babysitting for my cousin right now, for the whole wkend. the "kids" are a black dog named hudson and a whiteblackorange cat named puddytat. both adorable and well behaved (and maintained). my cuz has a nice place- three huge rooms and a patio/backyard/garden area. i like it here. i just wish it werent so empty and quiet.

complete and utter sadness.

no more tetrollapse? i dont know what to do with myself now. :'(

writing prompts #2 & #3

#2- thunderstorms

there's a thunderstorm going on outside. this type of weather always frightened me as a child, the heavy rain, the unexpected boom. if i ever got caught in a thunderstorm, i would walk around with my hands covering my head, as if i could shield myself from the weather by holding up my hands to the sky, and saying, "no!"

i once saw a flash of lightning hit my father's car. it lay next to my aunt's house, dormant, as we sat on the patio and enjoyed the coolness of the summer rain. suddenly, there was a crash, and the automobile sprang to life, lights flashing, alarms blaring.

i always felt like that car. still, dead, waiting for someone to spontaneously come into my life and wake me up with a jolt.

in eight grade, our science teacher taught us that thunder is composed of energy, and that everything gave off an energy that thunder was attracted to. even humans had a stream of positive light beaming from the top of their head. thunder did not strike you- there is a compromise that happens, a joining of positive and negative energy in the sky.


---

#3- sad attempt @ erotica

there is a spot on the railing where the enamel has worn off from too much rubbing.

i have heard them call her lazy, even slow, but i know that she would rather watch, enjoy time instead of letting life pass her by. i used to be the same way, before the dullness of the dark house began to rob me of the joys in life. i used to marvel at every detail of life, the way that music can

...

now i just sit and watch her. marvel at how beautiful and expressive her face is when doing her chores, watch sweat drip from her brow as she twists her face in concentration, making sure every spot of dirt is off of the floor. she spends a lot of time on the stairwell, lightly running her fingers down the rail, searching for a spot of dirt she missed. and lately, i have noticed her watching me.

so i perform for her. i dance around the living room in exaggerated movements, trying to make her smile. i whirl my dress around me, and sometimes drag my hem up my calf slowly, waiting to hear a scandalized gasp. i can never fully shock her, though, instead she stares at me in amusement from her post at the bottom of the railing.

today i held out a brush to her, daring her to take it.

...

sometimes she whispers secrets to me. not in words, but through her fingers on my scalp, making the hairs on my nape stand with the stories that she tells me.

nobody's grrl, and who the hell is marley?

wed jun 24 2009 ashley's room 1:12AM

as i stepped out of the train station, i was greeted by a light misty rain. that's all new york is good for anymore, rain. regardless, i welcome the nasty weather, because no matter how you look at it, being outside on a rainy day is a whole lot better than being trapped inside all day. i might as well enjoy some fresh air on my five minute walk home. besides, the rain smells great.

there is something enticing about the way the rain smells on the hot concrete on a humid summer night. it helps mask the smell of piss and trash that usually lingers on the street corners. as i walk home, i want to lift my face to the sky, but instead i look down. some neighborhood boys are on one of the porch stoops, and they gave me trouble a couple of nights ago. i focus on the pavement as i pass three or four boys, a much smaller group than last time. instead of yelling ugly dyke at my back, this time they let me pass in silence. i have almost reached the end of the block when one of the boys calls to me, "hey aren't you marley's grrl?"

i roll my eyes and keep on walking, instead of yelling back "i'm gay", like last time. ive learned my lesson. its late, and i am still, after all, a young grrl walking home at night. i don't know why i keep letting this little boy constantly get under my skin. it probably has to do with being called someone's "grrl". i haven't been called than in a long time. not since brandon.

i can picture us now, in CVS, hanging out near the candy aisle. he kept thrusting a camera phone in my face, which i was doing my best to avoid. "i don't like having pictures taken of me," i told him through gritted teeth. he kept aiming the camera persistently in my face, ignoring my protests. "come on," he said, "i don't have a picture of you yet. how am i supposed to show off my grrl to the guys if i don't have a picture?" his grrl. his property, basically, to do with as he pleased. it always surprised me when he made claim to me like that. i never felt like he wanted me, even when i wanted to be "his". mostly because he never touched me.

i remember how hard it was to convince him to even hold my hand in public. i would grab his large, strong hands, and he would give my fingers a tight squeeze and then let go, sticking his hands in his pocket and letting my rejected one swing back to my side. it took a lot to get him to kiss me too. after our first- and only- date, he got in the habit of kissing me on the cheek as a greeting. i wanted more, though. i knew he was interested in my mind. he called at approximately 12Am every night, and we would chat for hours. i wanted to be reassured that someone could want me for my body.

once he came to visit me at home and sat on the floor adjacent to my bed. i remember crawling to him, in between his legs in what i hoped was a very sexy way, and turned around, resting my head on his chest. i wrapped one of his arms around my waist, and took one of his hands in mine, playing with the heavy ring on his pointer finger. he nuzzled his chin in my hair, against my cheek, and i offered up my neck to him. he chuckled, whispering in my ear, "you like that, huh?" and got up, announcing that it was time for him to go.

i once asked him why he never touched me, why we had such a hard time being affectionate. he told me that it was because he he didn't date sluts. i could hear the pride in his voice over the phone as he said it, as if he was happy that his girlfriend of three months had yet to contaminate him with her dirty, impure body. god forbid i ever mention wanting him to fuck me. god forbid i ever try to be sexual- no, that would make me dirty, make me a whore. and so when i broke up with him, i told him that it was because he had turned me into a lesbian- that i was so desperate for affection that i had ran to the gentler sex. of course, this is ridiculous- i was queer before he had even come into my life, something that excited him, "as long as he was allowed to watch".

so now, i enter my empty apartment, trying to erase all thoughts of brandon from my mind. it's hard, though. days like this, i wouldn't mind going back to him, even though he was a prick. it is hard being alone. all of the rejections in the past two years have erased any thoughts of me with someone else completely from my mind. i wanted to use my summer as a way to remind myself that i can be wanted or that i was worth something, but i am too busy and too tired and too old for that now. imagine, not yet 20 and already i feel too old. i have too much to worry about, like when my first check is arriving, or whether or not i will be able to make rent, or how in the hell i'm supposed to get to london in the fall. i don't have the time to belong to anyone ever again, especially when i feel like a large part of me doesn't even exist. maybe one day i can revive that part of me, one day when i have the time and energy to want to be vulnerable again.

it's funny. i used to think that kid was asking me if i was "mali's grrl" but who the hell is that anymore? i don't know if im a mali or a hopper or a jackson or a stokely, but.. that's another story for another day.

freewrite exercise: bodies of light

i never finished this poem. it was was for a 5 min freewrite and not polished, but here goes:

we are all bodies of water, she told me.
weighed down, heavy, water weights
we carry our burdens in our hearts and let them sink low
into our deep black pools.

we are all bodies of water,
grounded, gravity
sinking, constantly sinking like the bodies thrown aboard
we carry them too- the ocean, the bodies, we carry all of this weight
heavy, oppressive,
in our skin, our pores.

water doesn't allow for much motion
bodies thrashed around with the tide.
i do not have control over my body anymore
heavy weight, grounded, stuck.

but did you know that once the people took flight?
their bodies were not weighed down with water
but instead were black bodies of light.
angelic, floating crowns of kinks
they did not need wings, they would only look up to the sky
look up at the sun, smile and take flight.

ive heard of suicide girls but this is just ridiculous

the cat is suicidal.

he spends his days lounging on the couch adjacent to the door, contemplating ways to escape. if you linger too long with the open door, he will sprint past you, up the carpeted hallway stairs, all the way to the fourth floor. there have been a few times where i have had to chase him up the stairwell, and i can never compare to his speed. his whole day is spent waiting for this moment, his escape.

have you ever had to coax a cat out of committing suicide? it is terrifying. oblivious to my purrs, hisses and threats, he looks down at me from the railing. he closes his eyes, pokes his head through the bars, and puts one paw out to feel the air. then another. by this, i have grabbed him before we can both find out whether cats always land on their feet.

this is why i don't like going on our roof anymore. not some strange fear that the cat will find his way up there and go flying away, but that someone else will try to. no one else seems to care abt how tempting the sky is, the illusion of no gravity. it would be so easy to put out one foot, and then the other, and then...

full house is living single

So much has happened since we moved in two and a half wks ago.

Miatta and I got stuck on the roof. In all of our excitement, we forgot to put something in the door, and well.. let's just say that there was some climbing of fire escapes in order to - well, escape. The house is full right no- we're all single and fabulous... Ashley finally came back and Najee finally got here. The internship has picked up immensely. I have responsibilities now. I auditioned for the children shows and it was super rad. I missed playing, because at the end of the day, that's what theater is all about to me- playing, having fun, loving what ya do.

Everyone is going crazy. Or maybe we were crazy to begin with. I am watching my bank account come extremely close to the $50 mark, and I am getting nervous. I have been applying for a lot of jobs and I need a phone- but it's cut off. I feel anxious all of the time. I'm giving myself two weeks to find something, and if I can't by then... I need to peace out. I just really want stability. And money.

I need some sort of piece of mind. I ran out of things to chew on for comfort so I'v been brushing my teeth for 5, 10 minutes straight. It's weird and not very comforting anymore. I want to cry all the time. I might cry right now. Najee's constant jokes help me stay positive and upbeat, though. It's been a day and she's the rock I needed to keep going, I think. It's nice to live with 3 of my best friends.

PS- I rly like letters. I enjoy writing them as well as sending them. So please give me yr address (cough- caroline- cough) and I will write you lovely letters and maybe get one or two back?

little fruit(s) in the big apple

I am laying on my uncomfortable, half-deflated air bed, trying to adjust to the fact that I have spent my past week in my first apartment. In Brooklyn. In a house full of black dykes. Seriously, what is my life?

I have had a lot of feelings this past week, the biggest one being exhaustion. I am just so tired all the time. I have mostly been running around, applying for jobs, trying to familiarize myself with the trains, spending money. There is never a time to rest here, never anytime to just lay around in the grass and breathe, read a book, drink a beer, breathe. I am really in love with our fire escape for this reason. It is the only place "in" the house where one can relax by themselves and enjoy the weather. Although, it is usually just as noisy out there as the rest of NY. There are so many sounds here.

Living in NY makes me feel like I've never lived in a city before. Which is strange because I am from the city. There is nothing that makes me happier than coming home from Amherst, and watching the Boston skyline peek into view from around the Charles. Being downtown always puts a smile on my face. But Boston isn't NY. Boston is do-able. You can you can be a city person and still have a soul in Boston. It feels like in NY, people are constantly moving so fast that sometimes they forget they are human. Especially when crossing the street. It's like all NYers think they're superman or something. There have already been two times where I could have gotten run over because I decided to follow the NYers lead. Here, it's every man for himself.

Manhattan. Oh, boy. You are one money-sucking monster. DId you know there are no benches down 6th Ave? I walked from W23rd to W14th and saw not one bench. There was even a little raised area with flowers and plants, and it was surrounded by a spiky metal railing to ensure that nobody could sit down on it. I saw a lot of overpriced stores, though. And I definitely saw a lot of cafes that would put Starbucks to shame. And here I was, thinking SB was pretty classy. I hate having to be there for long, and I still haven't even done the whole touristy thing yet. Although I would eventually like to see what the big fuss about Central Park is.

My internship is in Manhattan. I haven't really done much yet. In fact I'm usually very bored, but it's only been two days and I know that it will pick up. The people at the theater seem awesome. The interns seem... more on that later, maybe? I haven't met them all, to be fair. I still need a job. I'm spending way too much money to not have a job yet. And the phone bill is coming up. And my weekly METRO is about done. And there's a party tonight. Gulp.

Maybe there's some love in my future? Some humorous encounters, some bigger than life adventures? Wait, who are we kidding! It's ME we're talking about. More complaints about money and life in the thee-yuh-tuh soon.

mammy blues

i found this in a journal and wanted to save it before i threw the journal away. i think this was over when i got my mammy statue and started going crazy. go figure.

---

mammy mammy mammy mamma love you mamma mamie ma'am where's yr mama, where'd she go? are you my mother? mother mommy i'm a virgin mother mammy my mama hates her mama hates her mama mama hates me hates mammy within me mammy die mammy die mammy die die die die die.

now i feel betrayed mama where'd you go mama I love you so mama i can't be alone mama mammy don't leave me mammy don't leave me don't leave me don't leave me don't leave.

sleep mammy, sleep.
sleep; perchance to dream.

notes on kissing, part 2

VI.

sometimes in your sleep things that you don't even realize you were thinking of come back to haunt you. in the past week i have kissed at least three people in my dreams, and every night i wake up feeling guilty.

the first person was on a bus. they were introduced to me once, as a crush of a friend. i kept telling them no, what would our friend think, and not to stand up when a bus is in motion. they told me they didnt care and pulled at my bottom lip with their teeth. i woke up licking my lips.

i kissed the second one, a personal friend, in a dark room. it looked a lot like my grandmother's bedroom, except it didn't reek of mothballs and dying. i told them happy birthday. they told me everyone else forgot except for me. as i walked out of the room, they pulled me close to them and kissed me one, two, three times. i woke up satisfied.

i went to bed the third time dreaming of that second kiss and hoping for a repeat. instead, i kissed a grrl i barely know. her best friend was in the room- i think we were all in a museum. definitely the most disappointing. i woke up laughing.

i guess its pretty obvious what my body is telling me. always stay seated in a moving vehicle, don't ever forget your friend's birthdays, and avoid museums at all costs.

we wear the mask

Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)
We Wear the Mask

WE wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!


"identity and race is often a performance." monday june 4, 2009 11:22AM

dear facebook

stop eating my brain.

you are now deactivated until the end of finals- g'bye for now.

fiddytoo rant

I know that I won't be here next semester, but have been feeling extremely emotionally tied to my mod this past couple of weeks. It has been a very strange place this year- not just for me, but for a lot of people. It has also been a very important space for me. I am starting to wonder where we are going wrong, however. Why has it been so hard to fill the space this year? Why is it that people keep leaving the space? Why do I come home to white boys lounging on my my couch, or watch them cook in my kitchen without cleaning up? What does the space even mean anymore?

I've been feeling extremely sentimental about fifty two, especially since an older student put up some old pictures of fifty two on facebook. This space has been one of the oldest people of color spaces this year, but I feel like people are starting to disrespect the space in a very real way. I don't think that it really matters how you ended up living in the space as much as it matters what you've done in the space while living there, and what it starts to mean to you. Anyone can write a good application, but how do they decide to give back to their modmates (and ultimately, their community) while living in this mod?

Maybe people haven't been thinking about it this year. However, I don't think we were always given a fair chance to "prove ourselves" as a mod this year. At the beginning of the year, I mentioned to a Smith student that I had just met that I lived in 52. They gave their companion a knowing look and replied, "I heard that 52 is not the same this year." I remember being really offended by that. But the more that I think about it, the happier I am that our house is constantly changing- as it should be. People of Color mod should change frequently to meet the needs of the students who live there (which should also change). I feel like it is a space that you utilize when you need it, and then move on so that another student who needs the space can enter. However, maybe it has been so hard to continue the space this year because there was such a strong removal of the "old 52" from it. There hasn't been much contact from students who were in 52 for so long, even the ones who are still on campus. But that's a good thing, right? I'm not quite sure. I mean a physical removal, not an emotional one.

This year I have felt so disconnected and abandoned from communities that I was so heavily involved in last year (JB Scholars, 52 S08, even UMOJA). I don't know if it's because people graduate, because people ARE graduating, that people are still emotionally drained from AAW, or for some other reason. But I really haven't felt CONSISTENTLY supported from POC this year other than the ones in my mod. Most of the time. And I am thinking about my need for the space, and wondering if I am alone in that. If maybe no one wants to live in 52 or if it's been hard to sustain this year because it is not currently needed. Because if these houses were needed, then wouldn't the beds get filled? So I am starting to think that maybe we SHOULD lose the house. Just for the grace year, and then fight for it back. This seemed to work for 85. Maybe it will work for 52 as well. Maybe the space needs to be missed by someone. It doesn't seem very appreciated right now, or cared about. And I guess, as things stand, we don't really have any other choice.

struggling to keep my eyes open

This blog post is a total fritter.

according to very reliable sources (CJJ) a fritter is defined as:

fritter (n): a task that can justifiably be argued as an excuse from important obligations (ie- work) but is still used as a way to procrastinate.

frittering: the act of fulfilling a fritter; procrastinating by keeping busy.


however, according to the dictionary, it means:

fritter verb
he frittered away his inheritance squander, waste, misuse, misspend, dissipate; overspend, spend like water, be prodigal with, run through, get through; informal blow, splurge, pour/throw down the drain. antonym save.


I like my definition better. using verbs as nouns are totally rad.

i am justifying this post because i have been told by numerous sources that i must update this blasted thing. why? i dont know. nothing that exciting happens here. not much that i would want to report here either. except that my leg is bleeding right now. no, really. it is.

ive been feeling pretty good but also worried. about everything. school work, money, friends. mostly friends. i worry about everyone and everything and i constantly feel like i should be doing more for everybody. i know that the one person i should learn to worry about is myself but to be honest that seems like a waste of time. im doing a lot better health wise. or at least i think i am. i talked to my momma on tuesday and it made me feel good. ive been sleeping a lot. way too much. i have this calm feeling, like i dont have any homework to do or anything to worry about or catch up on. i know this is a dirty lie that i keep telling myself and that i need to do better, strive to do more and stop distracting myself. but this year i just dont care.

i also chew on things a lot.

thats a strange confession to make but i feel like its ok to make here. i feel like im teething again, like a baby. its just comforting. i dont know why. i also remembered a part of a dream for the first time in a while. i miss dreams. mine are always so elaborate. i also want poems. i want ppl to write me poems. i feel so dry and ollld. and unproductive. i feel stopped up like im waiting to burst with something good and i cant write or do anything productive until i dont feel so stuck anymore. so give me a poem, give me a prompt, hell give me a letter and i will reciprocate and maybe then i can get something done.

ok now im gonna go take a shower.

do i need to take a shower at this very moment? no.

is this a total fritter on my part? hell yeah.