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Toni Morrison book altar🖤📚🙏🏿
@mocada_museum
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We closed this sacred session in honor and deep gratitude of our literary queen, by going round the room and each person completing the statement “Toni Morrison has given me _____ and for that I am ______.”
Each statement shared was so moving, sincere and heartfelt. Thank you to all who came and shared their hearts and minds so freely.
You are appreciated. ♥️
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“Desire is about vanishing. You dream a bowl of cherries and next day receive a letter written in red juice.”
— Anne Carson, in Norma Jeane Baker of Troy
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Missing you very much today. There was no me without you. Love you so much. Happy birthday hermanita. (at Love Story) https://www.instagram.com/p/B-7TsRcFgIz/?igshid=1ph4cdpkgorh0
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Emily Wilson: On Gender and Being the First Woman to Translate Homer’s Odyssey into English
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The first feminist gesture is to say: “Ok. They’re looking at me. But I’m looking at them.” The act of deciding to look, of deciding that the world is not defined by how people see me, but by how I see them.” -Agnès Varda
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““For years capital has told us that we’re only good for sex and making babies. This is the sexual division of labor and we refuse to eternalize it, as inevitably happens when we ask: ‘What does being female actually mean; what, if any, specific qualitites necessarily and for all time adhere to that characteristic?’ To ask this question is to beg for a sexist reply. Who is to say who we are? All we can know now is who we are not, to the degree that through our struggle we gain the power to break with our imposed social identity. It is the ruling class, or those who aspire to rule, who presuppose a natural and eternal human personality – it is to eternalize their power over us.””
— Silvia Federici, Counterplanning from the Kitchen (1975), in ‘Revolution at Point Zero: Housework, Reproduction, and Feminist Struggle’
(via philo-sophi-a)
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2 delicious years since this pink suit (at Tínos) https://www.instagram.com/p/B16eqJPBwqF/?igshid=t24o4qa52zly
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Carnival 2019
Monday 26 August
Barlby Road, 10am
“Being alive was the hard part.”
“It’s not evil, just sad.”
The morning after, of all the dvds in the house, Beloved, the 1998 film adaptation of Toni Morrison’s novel, lay on top of the pile on the coffee table.
Catching my sightline, and as if understanding that I needed to watch it, Brian put on the first 15 minutes of the film.
Oprah Winfrey and Danny Glover appeared as the vessels for Toni Morrison’s words.
The two phrases above stood out. Distinctly her written words. They could not be anyone else’s. They were precise. They explained everything. I understood. I cried.
Monday 26 August
Wormwood Scrubs, 2am
In the night darkness of Wormwood Scrubs, but under the moonlight of a crescent moon.
Jason: Can you see me? Most people can’t until I open my mouth. I am all dark, you are all light.
We all laughed. Why did I not say I see you? Why did I not say I hear you?
‘I feel most coloured when I am thrown against a sharp white background.’
Zora Neale Hurston.
I am always ‘against a sharp white background’. All I see now is that sharp white background.
Sunday 25th August
Streets of carnival
I saw a young white boy wearing a Rasta hat with fake dreads at Carnival 2019.
I saw a young black boy handcuffed on his own surrounded by six white officers. Maybe more.
I said he looked young. They said he was 20 and therefore an adult. We were not feel sorry for him.
What is the concept of adult in relation to powerlessness.
A young black man is never viewed or perceived to be vulnerable. It is all I see. Is that as disempowering?
White bodies can go anywhere. In and out they go. Black bodies are kept at the door.
Maybe to remain at the window was to finally see myself. To define my contours and not be lost to the background. The window framed a very sharp white background.
Matthew: I see you see my dark skin and think I am bad. My friends are good people. I am in recruitment.
I’ve never heard a white person try and prove their goodness without accusation.
The anger that has been stewing, coalesces and at the window it finally moves from chest to throat.
‘Then the voice in your head silently tells you to take your foot off your throat because just getting along shouldn’t be an ambition.’
Claudia Rankine
I need to bury myself in Toni Morrison and Claudia Rankine. It is all I know to do to feel less alienated. To feel less alone in this sharp white background.
I wonder if my friends see me against this background?
Do they see me?
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Claudia Rankine. Saving me and making me feel less alone against the ‘sharp white background’.
From Citizen: An American lyric
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Adrienne Rich, When We Dead Awaken: Writing as Re-vision, from On Lies Secrets and Silence.
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"those of us who do political work, radical political work, always insist on the importance of transcending the single individual and to think about collective processes"
angela davis on toni morrison
https://news.ucsc.edu/2014/10/morrison-davis-q-a.html?fbclid=IwAR0sAYmKjcoOPZYjjLzt7MEovHxTqbh7KVM14R7IgRcMqi_rY-fY83zQeIk
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Studying theology as a woman is strange because women can literally create life and parts of the female experience are such deeply existential experiences as having a miscarriage, carrying death, holding death, staring death in the eyes, being sacrificed by and for others - we’re part of a life and death cycle that transcends anything males can ever understand and comprehend, and still these experiences just don’t count and are never given any existential weight. Women know and yet here I am reading about yet another white, dead male who thought he had a clue.
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