Raven Moore's Blog, page 4

Negroland

Margo Jefferson’s world is a world of pictures, sounds, and smells. So, I don’t get a true sense of what actually happened in her life. Her memoir often reads as several essays instead of chapters, many of which you cannot tell where her voice is. Many plays, books, movies, and major works of art are shared which allows her to reflect herself in them. She is not able to do it on her own. And, I find it puzzling that neither her father’s nor her own childhood pictures match their skin colors as adults.

She speaks of hair perms, hair dying, and skin bleaching, but does not tell us if she has used any of those things. There are only clues. Hard to tell, but her Negroland, past and present, is a place where no Negroes are actually allowed unless they embrace Eurocentric values. These values are shown in good and bad ways while truly curly hair (referred to as nappy/kinky), wide noses, full lips, large backsides, and all ways of being Black, down to ways of laughing, etc. are only referred to in a negative light. Jefferson does not seem to be trying to fix anything and present the right values or embrace Blackness. Jefferson wrote this book to exonerate herself.

This book is the beginning of some kind of recovery from all she experiences growing up. You get glimpses of her childhood, glimpses of herself as an older adult, and all that lie in between is referred to very quickly as suicidal. Her tangents leave me without a story I can easily share although I now have plenty of references to other books and poems she so often quotes to reflect her mental state. I can see a soul there, but it’s hiding behind so many images that she was pretty much forced to use in order to define herself growing up.

She says she at times (or maybe all the time, this is unclear) has problems having “plural relations” with all Negroes—an ‘us’ or a ‘we’—I think because she must believe in the stereotypes and thinks she and her upbringing is a rarity. She seems to be saying that few Blacks in America, let alone any cultures from any African countries, could possibly have the great characteristics she touts, which are mostly aligned, in this book, to White people as a whole. Black people as a whole? Hmmm, she’s clearly not so fond of that. There are just way too many voices coming from Jefferson in this book and by the end I really have no idea which one she wants to be hers. She is conflicted. The description of her family is given only here and there, in contradictory pictures, in a few moments of dialogue, and in the last 20 pages of her book. I enjoyed some parts, but as a whole, realize that she was very afraid to write this book.

Dead Spirits

If I was just

a piece of flesh

I would have rotted

By now

I’m floating

Bloated

Bloating

Constantly

you keep giving me gifts

and i have no more pockets

Left

You can only be a memory

that I designed

Inspired

To exist

exactly the way I want

You to

No one else

I painted you

Then left you floating there

No more rotting flesh

Just rotten breath

On my face

I’m looking at you

Wondering

Who made you

and then I remember

I did

and i am

Reborn

A Whole Lotta’ Brown Goin’ Down

If you are a nationalist, you may not notice the brown conspiracy happening across the Rio Summer Olympics. You might be too busy rooting for your own country to notice that the underrepresented are representing themselves quite well in Brazil. Black girls from around the world are stepping up in a big way and showing us that Black lives matter by keeping their own intact, prominent, and dominant. They are winning not just where they are expected to win but in many places few knew they even had interest. They are fencing. They are in water polo. They have captured judo. They are daring themselves into swimming. And, they are powerful in gymnastics.

At just 23, Nzingha Prescod, born and raised in Brooklyn has stepped into an arena that is not usually available to children in urban areas. Simone Biles’s mother could not take care of her growing up because of drug addictions, but Simone has now become the first woman in the world to win three consecutive World Championship titles. And, let’s not even go into what many of the African athletes have been through to get here. World record breaker Ayana Almaz comes from the 2nd poorest country in the world—Ethiopia.

The stereotypes have always been clear. Black people have short twitch muscles, not long ones. They can only sprint. They do not do distance well unless they are from some mysterious country called Kenya where no one can quite figure out why their runners are doing so well. Black people cannot swim. They are afraid of water. Now, we have Simone Manuel and Ashleigh Johnson to say the latter is wrong.

This summer’s brown feats are not just wonderful because they smash the stereotypes, but because of what they represent about the societies Black people are living in. Becoming an Olympic champion takes money, time, energy, space, education, and an enormous amount of emotional support, many of these things not historically available to people of color in the U.S.A.

If no one had stepped in and cared for that little Black girl with a drug-addicted mother, Simone Biles would not exist. If the men training Nzingha Prescod had spent their time ogling her as a female object instead of giving her technique, mental agility, and strength, where would she be today? Not in Rio. Not alive possibly given the rate with which young, Black people are being targeted by the police.

So, yes. By all means, be a nationalist if it means you are for equal protection under the laws for all citizens. But, also be a globalist and notice the shift. Your world is getting better. People of all backgrounds are showing up and showing the world that anything is possible and that talent can go as far as one’s commitment to greatness.

Hollow Thyself

I’m protesting work

working for nothing

working for something

that belongs to somebody

else

should clean up this mess

I’m protesting work

that I don’t do

for myself

working for corps

who want me to work for them

really work

for

them

so they can make more cheese products

and I can give their money back to

them

and they knew

when they paid me

they were paying themselves

I see

when I go to the supermarket

where I work sometimes

when I want to eat

where I work sometimes

when I want to cheat myself

from a creative moment

times 1,000

I see

my pipes clogging up

my veins

my feet are heavy in the morning and

the night

time

brings me wishes

of nice sleep

good sleep

not involving

constipation

alleviation

of stress

bad memories

turned nightmares

bad decisions

turned deadly

I’m working for myself

to give something back to myself

Hollow thyself

said your boss

be me

not yourself

Trusting You is Me

trust is the new black

trust is the future

something we used to have

and then it depreciated

way past nothing

to the point where

you have to make your point

clear and fast

otherwise

you get denied

they can’t see you

inside you

like they used to do

and if they couldn’t

see you still

still

they could see you inside

themselves

someone in this middle earth

pushing your head above water

just to see land

and imagine

that you could get there

someone like them

of them

with them

for them

no one exists on their own

trust is the future

give me my airbnb

my uber

add me on facebook

look at my pictures

see me

laugh at me

talk to me

then

I can get to know the you

that I already know better than you

I can get to know me

I’m Starting to Feel

I’m feeling like a writer

I’m feeling disappointment

delays

and still

it’s all making sense

like why would this be easy

like every time I hear no

maybe it’s really because I said no

to something or someone else

something I could have done more

could have done better

like every time I hear no

it becomes

a part of my reason

I’m starting to feel like a writer

like it sucks to have to

explain 300 pages to someone who won’t

care until I make them care in 30 seconds

or less

or until the lights go out

or on

just read it

I’m thinking

like why do I have to stop

and explain to you

that

you need this

it’s obvious

to me

and for as long as you hesitate

is as long as you can fool yourself

that you know what you don’t know

that things are not presented to you

for a reason

every time

you procrastinate

obstinate

you could be involved

assuming that my words

have something

you might need

now or later

I’m starting to feel like a writer

because you don’t think I am

and this suffering

is actually a comfort

because it reminds me

that my desires are real

and I need to pursue them

to exist

that my passions

are actually

me

Not Blood

this is not blood

this is red icey

cherry mango

traveling down the street

to escape the heat

warming little feet

that dash

and jump

in the hot

heat haze

of summer

jams

favorite songs of all times

coming together as one big heartbeat

from corner to corner

and plate to plate

eating greens

and chicken

and things

that taste salty

spicy

and

sweet

licking the tips of fingers

that sometimes point

at funny scenes

people with happiness

in their souls

and connection in their eyes

this is not blood

this is red icey cherry mango

this is love and life

fear

Fear is

what I have everyday

when I wake up

and look

out the window

to hear the morning chaos

I expect

it to be a continuation

of what happened yesterday

and don’t feel I can let go

of it

yesterday

is my today

everyday

I don’t know how to be

create me

outside of what others

have done

or said to me

I don’t know how

to say things to myself

to remember myself

in every moment

enough to be so present

to laugh at what I like

and smile

when something makes me feel good

I’m always thinking

I might be wrong

someone might disagree

with how I see me

I see me

in my dreams

I’m stronger there

only there

can I imagine

that

something else

extraordinary could happen

to me

even though I don’t deserve it

work for it

push

your fear

out the window

after you open it

and don’t look and wonder

what will happen out there

wonder what will happen

in here

push

Words

Words mean everything

they do everything

they say everything

they hide everything

they know everything

Words mean nothing

they don’t feel

they don’t heal

they’re not a big deal

if you don’t believe them

Words make wars

divorces

friends

Words

Without words

We would hug more

kiss more

play more

help more

or

fight more

some people need words to live

their way

and some people don’t

because they live in a way that’s easy

to understand

words are not your own

they belong to whoever

you give them to

keep the ones that mean the most to you

that don’t hurt you

give the ones that you want

someone to give

to someone else

words don’t belong to you

they belong to the air

and melt inside of nothing

because nothing can hold them

they existed before you spoke them

they existed as a heartbeat

a rhythm

a pulse of life

that could have never

been

denied

whether you spoke them or not

you don’t need words

you need to remember

to love

Your

self

Behind

instead of being tired

call it inspired

call it ready

call it running

never missing a chance

knowing an opportunity

when you see it

hear it

feel it

taste it

touch it

smell it

love it

pick up the ball

and go

maybe you feel you’re too weak

maybe you feel out of your mind

just pick up your behind and

get to it