You wanted me in pieces. Onyx don’t break for the broken. –side peace
The fragility of a heart is unknown until it is held and destroyed by friendly Fire –fickle flames
at times i wonder if i’ve yet to overcome or enter my own death or life where I am cannot be enough yet also cannot be the worst of what…
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.
By Jesika Laster and Odelia Younge A few weeks ago, Siana Bangura—a black British poet and freelance journalist—was assaulted by a white man on a train in the UK on…
When you turned your back
I saw the scars of your fears,
urgency in denial….
I think you felt
refusing to understand
was the same as holding on.”