love love love

i believe we are living on the precipice of the next phase of our species. and i’m with such good people, people who cry hard and laugh harder. and do one to move through the other, rolling across the full emotional span in epic waves. we feel what’s gaping and yawning underneath both of those releases, that scale of lovegrief that can’t be captured in any words i know…we let it be in our eyes, at our core.

the more i learn/remember how to feel, the more in love i fall with the particular aliveness that only sparks between us. that met longing felt when the interior world unfolding in me comes to a border and longs to be porous, expansive, vast, one, multitudes. this opening, these moments, this work, this makes a viable future possible.

today i remembered a song i was taught over a decade ago:

“oh i say thank you
oh i say thank you
oh great spirits
in this way
i long to give my life to you
in love and devotion
in love and devotion”
(this was taught to me as a gwitch’in song from haida gwaii)

even now, especially now, with a mask over my mouth and a storm at my back, i am learning what i must realize in myself, what i must defend and protect, what i must cultivate in the face of fear and death and supremacy: love, love, love.

solange’s table

first reaction to A Seat At The Table, from Solange Knowles:

solange made a black love note album to me and you and us and new orleans and louisiana and master p and all the black people and she included zero fucks. she said this is for us and don’t touch my hair and that she is mad for a reason.

“I am a very complex, nuanced, messy, ever-evolving and changing and growing woman. I live that out through my work.”

precisely.

and she sounds like a bell in hades.

deeper listen reaction:

i drove from Detroit to Nashville to see Beyonce with my Sisters and basically listened to the whole Solange album as nutrition and scholarship. i was dipping into certain songs by putting them on single song repeat, delighting in each eddy before returning to the stream so steadily moving the way i need to go.

‘cranes in the air’ was the most played song. it is so beautiful, it sings itself all the way into our/my grief. i watched so many of my beloveds put the words up as they listened, saying this, this:

“i tried to work it away/
but that just made me even sadder/
i tried to keep myself busy/
i ran around in circles think i made myself dizzy/
i slept it away/
i sexed away”

and

“i traveled 70 states/
thought moving round make me feel better/
i tried to let go my lover/
thought if i was alone then maybe i could recover/
drive it away/
or cry it away/
(don’t you cry it baby)”

i don’t know many woke black people who won’t feel themselves in these words.

and then after these words she soars up into riperton falsetto, and we know that beautiful pain, that love pain. the album touches that pain with medicinal tones, saying we have the right:

– to be mad (in the digital booklet for this album there is a stunning piece that lists the years, then endless years (“when it’s been about a thousand years”) of black american suffering, going into the future…”i got a lot to be mad about”)

– to have boundaries (in ‘f.u.b.u.’, which starts with the delicious distinct call in to “all my niggas in the whole wide world”, she tells white folks: “don’t feel bad if you can’t sing along/just be glad you got the whole world/some shit is for us”)

– to let go (while lil wayne gives a vulnerable direct offer of this wisdom, i was deeply moved by ‘don’t wait for me’, which guides us not to “waste the time to know” people/drama that aren’t part of our journey)

– to value ourselves, not seeking the approval or investment of those who don’t understand us (mama tina and master p weave this lesson beautifully. master p is a radical griot, his every word a rejection of white supremacy. my favorite line, as a creator: “if you don’t understand my record then you don’t understand me, so this is not for you.”)

Solange names her inspirations, which show up in beautiful collage and hint in these songs.

i also hear amel larriuex, erykah badu, denice williams (thanks celeste faison for helping me find the riff), marvin gaye, bjork (the pulling back sensuality of ‘possibly maybe’), little dragon, diana ross, aaliyah, janet jackson.

i also hear the bloodline, i hear Beyonce in the root system, and deeply respect these sisters each holding such distinct spaces of creative black femme brilliance.

and then with all of those touches and flavors and notes – Solange is so herself-in-the-world, a pure sound moving like a candle through an apparently burnt out landscape, unveiling that its a lush obsidian galaxy with its own honors and rhythms.

Solange has set her own abundant black love and healing table and she is generous, inviting us to have a seat and just chill in it, soak in it, nod and grind and bump and revel in it.

i am so here for this. i give thanks to matthew and tina for what they brought into this world.

from earth to obsidian (28/30)

prompt: write a poem about bridges. A bridge is a powerful metaphor, and when you start looking for bridges in poems, you find them everywhere. Your poem could be about a real bridge or an imaginary or ideal bridge. It could be one you cross every day, or one that simply seems to stand for something larger – for the idea of connection or distance, for the idea of movement and travel and new horizons.

queens aya and e— tell why

we walked this sky
because we were not wanted
because we were always targets
of extermination

we left in twos
like all sacred beasts
spinning a path
towards another time

where we cannot be hunted
skinned, broken
lynched, choked of fair breath
expected to look away
from our genocide

where our love is no one’s
path to hell
(that look in the eye
confuses even righteous desire,
or the spark of forever)

we bet on the
miracle of our beautiful
black and queer
and liberated
bodies

we called our ship
Harriet’s Escape
her of rocket science and
witchcraft, dream fuel
and tomorrow
as our only direction

we came here for a future
in which our flesh is precious
in which our children are divine
in which our lives matter

we spun the bridge from
death to life
from supremacy to love
from earth
to obsidian

Beyonce: album review

it’s a straight up lie to call this a review when it’s a turned-out-last-night style love note. however, ‘i’m a grown woman’ and thus ‘can do whatever i want.’

i woke up this morning to the new self-titled Beyonce album because my beloved loves me right.

within a few hours i had bought it for her too.

i worked hard all day knowing that i was going to be with Her 17 new videos this evening.

now i just finished watching Beyonce’s visual album, which She released with no press, all at once, as if we could handle that. but i’m stepping up to the challenge, i am actually letting the love i feel for Her flow through my whole self.

highlights are too plentiful to be a useful frame here. this is about an explosion of love, of Bey loving us and letting us love Her, giving us both a futuristic form of musical release AND a throwback monocultural experience, at least much closer to one than any other artist has done recently in a positive way.

i tweeted that my love for Beyonce feels sacrilegious, miraculous, infinite, inappropriate and healing. and yes of course it’s been building for some time now, but with this album She makes me feel good about being myself in these specific ways:

being exactly my shape
being a feminist
being a futurist
being a fashionista
being a partner to a peer
being unapologetically a boss at the work i’m on earth to do
being a virgo
being sure And full of doubt
being a shape shifter
being sexually brilliant
being dramatic
being international
being vulnerable
being in a state of constant growth
being a cultural change agent
being a pleasure activist who knows how to get down properly…not just still, but more than ever
being a lady, a bitch, a freak, a lover, a gift
being alive right now

there are more things, but the point i want to make here is that She manages to both be changing the game constantly while also making that Bey feeling somehow universal. i saw Her in concert last summer and it blew me away to see the gorgeous self-expression of the audience, the way we moved in Her presence. we all elevated our own best efforts to come be in Her presence.

sigh. just reveling in that memory for a second.

with this album, also, the love in Her life is such a crucial part of Her narrative – She lets us feel how She is being changed, challenged, complicated, held and grown by the passion and partnership She practices.

i think the potential results of this album are myriad: better albums from Her would-be peers, better sex, better fashion, more complex ideas of what power looks like, and what mamas look like, and wives, and divas. also more babies, slower seductions, better dancing, less policing of how we are women, more excitement about art as controversial ground to grow society, less fear.

the album is worth this love without the videos. then the videos are fantastic. the throwback videos of baby Bey are tender. the inclusion of family, friends, Her Bey world, is so right and generous.

i gifted it today to women i love because it’s the right thing to do.

i am so grateful i am capable of loving this way. thank you so much Beyonce. thank you.

i woke up like this!
i woke up like this.
flawless.