“Survival jujitsu is an expensive practice that takes more than it gives. You see, your mother wakens in the morning to see that you have joy throughout the day. Your…
Death is the cool of winter unraveling roots and leaves of beings who have outlived their welcome, but done their duty none-the-less. Death is the threshing floor; it clears and…
“The revolution will cost all that we have. It will cost our lives, with the ever-elusive promise, that we might transcend the products, producers and midwives of violence we have become…”
The work is a tour de force if not for the sheer breadth of content, then for the refusal of its sweeping verse to comfort when comfort is not on the menu for the subjects at hand. It is more than unflinching—it unsettles, it bites, it scars, it lingers, and it loves, simultaneously in a language perfected by, common and accessible to those who have perfected the art of living while Black, BlaQueer or Queer….”
We look to them for guidance, nurturing, mother-work and rarely allow them to exist in shared spaces as publicly sexual and attractive people. The participants note this interesting axis between race/gender/gender performance where black fat and femme people are often remade into the earlier image of the black mammy, existing only to give and serve. These mammies often had children, but no one dare claim them as the object of their desire. Sex with a mammie was something to be ashamed of. She was there to be used, not loved. All too often we reproduced this sort of racial-sexual consumerism with our friends, our sex partners and our family members.