commitment

Today I finally applied for US citizenship! After 25 years of living in this country, after weeks of starting the online application, stopping, and starting again…I did it. When I renewed my green card ten years ago, I swore I wouldn’t renew it again. It expires in April and I have no idea how long it will take for my citizenship application to be processed, but at least I got the ball rolling. It’s hard for me to commit—to a country, to a city, to a profession. I’m always thinking, “What if…?” and then my anxiety runs away with me. I spent most of this evening online looking at condos in Evanston and Chicago; last week I was in California and found myself resenting all the money I had to spend on Lyft rides just to go a few miles. Seeing friends made it worthwhile and I enjoyed my time in LA, Glendale, Oakland, and San Francisco. But it confirmed for me that I don’t want to live anywhere that doesn’t have a well developed public transit system. Architecture, parks, density/walkability, art spaces—those things matter to me. I was in Philly on Saturday; the subway was crowded and grungy but I couldn’t help smiling at how easy it was to get around the city. I came in early so I’d have time to see the Black masculinities exhibit at the AAMP before heading to the Logan branch of the Free Library. There I led a workshop for folks interested in self-publishing and had a really great group of writers, all keen to learn more about print-on-demand technology. At least half the attendees had finished projects and just needed to know how to take the next step, which is encouraging since the latest Lee & Low assessment of diversity in the publishing industry shows virtually no progress since 2015. We ran a bit late so I caught a Lyft downtown to meet friends for dinner; my driver shared his opinion of Chicago and thought moving there was a good idea since it’s a mid-sized city like Philly. I reached out to a friend there yesterday and she had some good advice…I realized as I was talking to her that the past couple of years might be my way of slowly shifting away from the east coast. I’m not drawn to west coast cities at all, but there are a lot of options in the Midwest. Philly was the “bridge” that got me out of New York, and maybe Lancaster was the bridge that got me away from the east coast. I still want to visit Pittsburgh and Detroit but I’m realizing how much it means to be in a place where you have a support system of fellow creatives. LA was kind of intimidating—our colorism panel took place at a private club that had a swanky rooftop restaurant. But the organizers and attendees were down to earth and not pretentious at all. I thought I was ready to slow down but I think I’m going to have to travel a lot for at least a few more years, which means I need to live closer to an airport. I want to live in a place that attracts other Black women artists—enough to form a collective so we can share resources and easily exhibit our work. I saw Voices of the Eighth in Harrisburg before leaving for LA last week, and there’s some incredible art by Gracie Berry at the Lancaster Train station. I haven’t put enough effort into connecting with local artists but it’s hard when I’m not home that much. I’ve got three weeks before I hit the road again. I’ve made some appointments, reached out to some high school teachers, and this Thursday Julia Mallory and I will be featured in a Black History Month special on ABC27. Next Thursday it’s our reading at Midtown Scholar; I’d just about given up on bookstores but our event at Uncle Bobbie’s last week was incredible. Sometimes you can connect with strangers in an instant and other times you have to work at building relationships. Mostly you just have to put yourself out there…