Poem: The Unintelligibility of Love
By Jolie Brownell
We can love without fully making sense to each other.
my body, an unfamiliar language,
the way i move does not speak to you,
a language not made for you, my body not made for you.
my existence not yours to make sense of.
not yours to interpret.
not yours to understand.
we fear that which we do not know.
yet, you may not know my name,
but you know my body.
the language of human.
what my body does, what my body does not do,
does not need to make sense to you,
to still be a body.
what my language says, what my language does not say,
does not need to make sense to you
to still be a language.
to equate ‘understanding before’ to respect,
to equate ‘familiarity with’ to dignity,
is to violate my body,
is to misinterpret my language into the sound of your comfort.
i do not owe you an explanation for who I choose to be.
i do not owe you access to my language.
ask yourself what gives you the right to fully understand me?
what gives you the self-entitled power to own my body?
own rights to my language?
me not giving you rights to my body,
is not my body harming you.
me not giving you translations to my language,
is not my language insulting you.
it is the truth that the interconnectedness of our humanity,
the interconnectedness of our language,
still powerful without fully making sense to each other.
the details of my sways, my steps, whose hands i hold,
whose body my body rubs,
irrelevant to you,
yet not unimportant.
the details of my words for joy, my phrases for love, how i call myself,
my language for tomorrow,
not the same as yours,
yet not unimportant.
there is love in difference,
there is difference in love.
there is love in irrelevancy,
there is irrelevancy in love.
to believe you can only love what fully makes sense to you,
to believe you can only respect what first makes sense to you,
is to believe yourself as undeserving of love.
do you fully make sense to yourself?
there is this unintelligibility about love,
the ‘what words just can’t quite fully describe,’
the ‘i don’t have the words to explain it, but you…’
there is this ‘i don’t know’ in love.
do not fear this ‘i don’t need to know’ in love.
-\jolie brownell
How to Respond To Racist Comments and A Silent Professor
Photo: Harrison Hamm
By Jolie Brownell
Zoom university. No student asked for this. Most definitely no student sought to pay for something like this. But here we are… in the middle of an ongoing pandemic with over 200,000 lives lost, global turmoil, threats of a second civil war, police brutality, ongoing protests, a new president, etc. Chaotic times, to say the least. For many people, these times have become a matter of life and death. It feels so weird to be students who are still expected to show up to class, complete assignments, and almost act like everything is “normal” (wtf does that even mean anymore?).
Then, on top of all of this, to show up and hear racist, ignorant, and harmful comments made in Zoom-class with no response (or a dismissive response) from a professor is just that more disappointing, frustrating, and invisibilizing.
We already witnessed thousands take to Instagram posting their black boxes — performative allyship at its peak — and have watched individuals “wake up.” Yet, if these times have shown us anything, it’s just how far our country has to go to face the pervasiveness of our systemically racist, capitalist, white supremacist, and settler-colonialist society.
I write this piece to hopefully provide some avenues to confront all this shit in the Zoom-classroom. Yet, I want to note that I am speaking to different audiences. We should understand why it is a very different experience to speak up towards racism and bigotry as a person of color versus as a white person. Just like it is a very different experience for a queer person versus a straight person to speak up against homophobia and transphobia. This distinction does not negate the challenge, anxiety, and negative experiences that non-POC or cis-gendered and/or heterosexual individuals face speaking up… but it’s not the same y’all. If you want to learn more about why, read anything by Ibram X. Kendi, Kimberle Crenshaw, Audre Lorde, Ijeoma Oluo, James Balwin, Angela Davis, etc.
I point this out because these steps below aren’t just for queer/POC, but these steps are also perfect opportunities for “privileged” folks—white/white-passing cisgender and/or heterosexual students—to show up as allies and speak up, instead of waiting or relying on the (usually) sole person of color or “othered” person to do it. These steps are how you can stand up for yourself, show up for others, and find resources if you need help to take necessary action.
What To Do:
Tip 1: Directly Call it out - If you hear someone say a racist, homophobic, sexist, and/or fatphobic, (any bigoted comment) and your professor does not say anything, you can respond by calling it out. This is the most direct way to respond, but for many, this is also the “scariest” option. You don’t know how they will respond, but it can be assumed that they may get defensive or even dismissive.
Tip 2: Pose it as a question - “Is this what you meant to say?” Reframe their ignorant or bigoted comment to give them a moment to clarify what they just said and hopefully correct them. Many times individuals do not realize what they said was ignorant. Doing this may help them catch their implicit bias or blatant racism.
Tip 3 - Call out through Chat - Instead of unmuting yourself and speaking up in Zoom-class, use the Chat function and type out your response there. This can help you both determine what you want to say and how you say it. There are many creative ways to respond, here is a list of a few below:
Pose it as a question - Same as above, you can type out the question, “Is this what you meant to say?” Reframing their ignorant/bigoted comment to give them a moment to clarify what they just said and hopefully fix it.
Post a Resource - Posting a link to an article that directly speaks against the bigoted or ignorant comment can be a slyer way to call out the person. It also shares resources for all students to learn more. You can lead with this phrase or something similar: “[@whoever], your comment reminded me of this super awesome/intriguing article I read about [whatever their bigoted comment was about].” Also, posting a powerful quote by an activist or historical figure that speaks to the comment could also be productive.
Share a Personal Lesson - Depending on if you have the time or emotional bandwidth to do this (looking at my white/white-passing cis-gendered and/or heterosexual peers here), sharing a short personal learning moment concerning the comment can be helpful. Something to the effect of, “You know what, [@whoever], I used to think that too until I read/learned about this…”
Private Chat is a thing - If you didn’t know this yet (and if your professor hasn’t disabled this feature) with Zoom-chat you can secretly chat with someone. This can be really helpful. If you know the person or are more familiar with the person who said such a bigoted comment, secretly being like “Hey, look, what you said was harmful in this way” can be productive while also not calling them out in front of the whole class. It’s similar to taking a person to the side if we were in person. You can secretly message your professor, as well, to directly address them.
Now, what if you don’t have access to Zoom-chat or if it’s your professor who's making the bigoted/ignorant/factually incorrect/racist comments? This gets a bit trickier, but hopefully, the tips below are helpful.
Tip 4: Email after class - You can type up a response after class to let your professor know how such a comment they said or a student said made you or your peers feel. It’s best to not let too much time pass by before sending the email, so the conversations of the class are still in the back of both yours and your professor’s minds. Writing an honest, but respectful email to your professor can start a larger conversation about what took place. Again, I am also looking to my white cis-gendered peers here, because just because a comment was made that didn’t necessarily demean you, doesn’t mean you can’t speak out about it. If a professor receives multiple emails from students regarding what was said, it will be taken more seriously.
Tip 5: Go to another trusted professor or staff member - If your professor does not respond, or you even want additional help figuring out how to approach your professor, receiving counsel from another trusted professor can be helpful. They can provide additional tips and steps you can take to address these problems. They can also point you to who else to reach out to higher up in the hierarchical chain. You may instead want to go to a trusted staff member. For instance, those who work in the Ethnic and Intercultural Services (EIS) can be great resources as many of them are trained to handle these very situations.
Tip 6: Report up - If your professor does not acknowledge your email or provide action steps on how they plan to readdress or resolve the issue, then it is important to know that you can report up. You can either email or speak to the Chair of their department, or even the Dean of the college your class is under.
While these may feel like “extreme” measures for a small bigoted or ignorant comment, research around “minor” events /microaggressions proves otherwise. We all know these comments never come independently, they are reflective of a larger racist, homophobic, sexist, white supremacist culture, and society. Your class environment—yes, even on Zoom—is meant to be one that fosters a safe space for everyone to learn. Silence only condones these problematic behaviors. Doing nothing about it only perpetuates the problem. Don’t let others tell you that these comments aren’t a big deal, this is called gaslighting, which is a super problematic no, no.
What NOT To Do:
While I’m sure there are many other tips that you can do to respond to these comments or a silent professor...here’s something you should stop doing: Hearing a problematic/bigoted comment be made in class, doing nothing about it, and then texting your one Black friend in the class or queer peer in the class something to affect of “I’m so sorry that happened to you/or that you had to hear that…” This is honestly and truly not helpful and low-key calls yourself out. You heard the comment, you were a witness, and instead of sticking up for your peers or speaking out against the comment, you chose to do nothing.
I know while some may appreciate this, others may instead see this response as more about your feelings of guilt for not doing anything, rather than about truly caring about your peers who could be affected by such a comment. If you truly care, reach out AND speak up. Reach out AND email your professor. Reach out AND report it to the Dean.
What Else Can You Do?
Have more tips on how your peers can stand up against bigoted comments in the class? Speak up to silent professors? Please share them in the comments. I know many students will find your thoughts helpful.
Also, please note that this isn’t only about comments made in class. These tips can be used to address other problematic features of the class. From problematic comments to problematic assignments or class materials. Anything that demeans another person, intentionally or unintentionally, needs to be addressed.
Remember, you and your voice have power. You have power. Use it to stand up for yourself and use it to stand up for your peers. Even if you have no people of color in your class, still, speak up. Speak up in your own way. Speak up because this is the first step to addressing the larger issues. Change cannot happen without pointing out where we need to grow. So please, speak up.
Okay, So “All Latinos Are Lazy.” But what does that actually mean for you?
Wednesday, November 11, 2020
I recently listened to Brene Brown’s Podcast “Unlocking Us,” where she interviews Ibram X. Kendi about his recent book titled “How to Be an Antiracist.” During the Podcast Kendi explains how stereotyping, or what he calls the “personalization of groups,” is when groups are given individual characteristics that turn out to be vastly false. He uses the common stereotype of the Latinx community being “lazy” as an example of this. Instead of reiterating everything Kendi said by explaining how racist and false these stereotypes are, I want to try another approach. What if, just for this moment, we accepted this stereotype to be true: “All Latinos are lazy.” What are the actual implications for us (non-Latinx) if we accept this?
Okay, So They’re Lazy...Now What?
This stereotype (I mean, now truth) that all Latinx people are lazy, in most cases does not stand alone. I mean that the laziness of these people is almost always used as a justification for something. For instance, “Build a wall so the lazy immigrants don’t come in!” or “All these lazy undocumented aliens just want to get our government benefits.” The point is that these people are not “worthy” of access to certain benefits or even an entire country because they are lazy. Lazy, then, has become synonymous with an assumed lack of moral and work ethic and therefore should not be condoned or supported by any benefits.
If you accept everything above as true, then you have already accepted another bold belief: the productivity of a body is more important than the existence of such a body. To say a person should not have access to a country because they are lazy, is to already understand, accept, and condone the fact that this country prioritizes the ability, efficiency, and performance of a body more than its human life. If they are lazy and cannot produce (profit) or are unwilling to work, then they are not deserving of any benefits. In other words, we have come to base the worth and desirability of a person on what they can do.
What Does This Mean for You?
Here, then, is my question to you: is this how you understand the U.S. to be? If so, are you okay with this? Are you okay with living within a society that prioritizes what you can produce for it over your very existence? Are you okay with having to earn your basic rights and benefits (such as affordable food, safe housing, second chances, good schools)? Are these things we must earn in the first place? ...Or does simply being a human alone, not already make you worthy of such rights? Are you, being human alone, not worthy of this?
Pushing even further, where do you think we learned to fuse together the worth of a person with their productivity? Does this feel natural to you, or learned? conditioned? Do you believe that living in the U.S. with a capitalist economic system (which prioritizes profit) has shifted our understanding of what it means to be human? …Do you want to continue living in this kind of society or would you prefer one where you could do nothing, be lazy and still be every bit as deserving of basic human rights? If this still feels wrong to you, I highly suggest you dig deeper into why.
The things these “lazy” people are fighting for are basic human rights. So to say that they must earn their rights by working… is almost like saying they must earn their way to being considered as human. Eww! I hope that made you cringe as much as it made me typing this.
Don’t Just Stop Calling them Lazy, Start Allowing Them To Be
I have heard this trope said about the Latinx community my entire life. I even remember back in middle school asking some of my Latinx peers about why they “goofed around” and didn’t pay more attention to the teacher at times (I know, I realize now how I played right into this stereotype). But what shocked me back then was their response: “Why should we work hard, get A’s, when no matter what we do, everyone else will still see us as lazy and undeserving.” I also know all too well how this stereotype has been used upon the Black community (i.e. Welfare queen or lazy Black people trying to scam the system instead of working harder).
The truth is, are there lazy individual Latinx people? I am sure they are. Am I lazy sometimes? Most definitely yes!! Do you feel lazy some days? I’m sure you do. But, it doesn’t feel right to dismiss an entire group of people as lazy just as a quick way to disqualify them of rights… especially if these very rights shouldn’t be earned through productivity in the first place.
So what I hope you take away from this, is that yeah we should probably stop stereotyping people and entire communities. But also, I want you to take it a step further. What if we allowed each other to be lazy? What if we remove the moral compass around productivity and just allow each other to rest and create entire lives that aren’t centered around productivity, efficiency, work, and profit? What kind of society would this create? What new liberations would this bring for you?
We should be allowed to rest, to not want to work our whole lives, to be lazy. We should all be given the freedom to just be. human. and supported.
Also, just FYI, to deem an entire group of people lazy, while refusing to understand the complexities of their disparities, is actually quite lazy too ;)
by Jolie Brownell
It’s been a couple of months, let’s check-in.
You posted the black box. You flooded the #blacklivesmatter hashtag. Fuck. You deleted your post. You reposted the black box but instead wrote #blackouttuesday. There, you did it right. “We are amplifying Black voices,” you told yourself, “we are listening.” To what? All I saw were little black boxes.
All of my pettiness aside, we’re still new to this, right? Three months ago, many of us, came out publicly with our support for #BlackLivesMatter for the first time. It only took a pandemic, but we’re happy you’re finally here. Anyway, it’s been a minute since the black boxes, so let’s check-in. What’s happened since?
It’s the “Activist” In the Bio for Me
Honestly, I am not here to talk about your beach or brunch posts with captions of “arrest the cops that killed Breona Taylor.” Or the single black box in your feed that strikingly sticks out among the aesthetic photos of your wanna-be perfect life. There are plenty of incredible voices that have already commented about how hurtful, dehumanizing, and ridiculous these kinds of performative posts are. What I want to talk about is the fact that some of y'all really thought this was enough. Box checked. You’re an activist now. Added #activist to your bio. Like LOL, what?
So in all honesty, if you lost your phone today, how would you prove your “activism”? What else have you done besides post #blacklivesmatter? Incredible books like Stamped: Racism Antiracism, and You and How to Be an Anti-racist by Ibram X. Kendi, and So You Want To Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo have sold out, but have you actually read them? Have you been educating yourself? Radicalizing yourself? Confronting the problematic sides of yourself? Calling your peers out? Having uncomfortable but productive conversations? Calling your senators? Pushing your university to take students of color seriously? Using your passions to make political statements? Using your privilege to uplift marginalized voices? Protesting without centering yourself? Registering to vote? Voting in the interests and investments of those most marginalized?
It’s been 3 months since the black boxes, and honestly, I don’t really care about what your feed looks like. (But hopefully you’re following more BIPOC people.) More important things to reflect on are questions like How you’ve been decolonizing your own mind? and How have you been doing “the work”?
Activism Most Likely Won’t Make You Go Viral
If it feels like I’m calling you out, it’s because I am (lovingly so). Because the truth is that no true activist work will be found in the performative. Too many of you want to call yourself activists because of all the hype, when in reality, activist work isn't some bandwagon you can hop on. You can’t get credit for doing nothing.
The truth is that doing activist work most likely won’t make you go viral—maybe doing performative TikTok shit might—BUT the point is that we are in a REVOLUTION. WE are the revolution! So let’s learn how to do this right, or at least not performatively.
Social media was created to reflect your life, interests, and what matters to you, so let your posts be reflective of the real-life work you're doing and not just some facade to make yourself look woke. We see right through that, honey, and it’s not a good look on you.
The Revolution Will Not Be Performative. PERIOD!
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| Graphic: Jolie Brownell |
By Jolie Brownell
We chant: “BLACK LIVES MATTER.” They say, “no, ALL lives matter.” We say: “ABOLISH the police.” They say, “but wait, BLUE lives matter.” Perplexed, we respond: “No, blue lives don’t exist, that’s a job, not a life.” But I want to stop you there, because when we say that “blue lives do not exist” we are actually watering down and erasing the history of racial policing in the US.
To Be White is to Be a Cop
Blue lives, used here as an analogue to Black lives to mean “the lives of police,” do, in fact, exist. And no, I’m not talking about the Smurfs.
It’s the early to mid-eighteenth century. US colonies are kidnapping, bringing over, and enslaving more Africans, thus increasing the Black slave population. This population increase causes paranoia, “suspicion and fear” among white people. To curb this fear of being overpopulated or overthrown by slaves, many colonies, Virginia being the first, institutionalize slave codes that instill racist laws around the rights—or lack of rights—of enslaved individuals and the rights of their slave masters. These codes, in essence, grant white slave owners complete control over slaves including “corporal punishment.”
Slave patrols are the very root of today’s policing. During this time, slave patrols, a militia of mostly white men, were the ones who enforced these slave codes. The first patrols were formed in the Carolina colonies in 1704 and consisted of white people catching and punishing runaway slaves and committing other racist atrocities. In the eighteenth-century United States, to be white was to be given complete control over Black lives. To be white, was to be a cop.
First Came the Right to Police, Then Came the Badge
The key point here is the fact that white people were given the right, institutionally sanctioned permission, to police Black bodies before there ever was an actual badge or “job” per se.
In their new book, Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You, award-winning authors, activists and race scholars Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi expand on this. In the chapter “A Different Adam,” they hit on another fear of the white elite: the fear of poor whites and enslaved Black people uniting and working together to overthrow them. Reynolds writes:
They “knew if Blacks and Whites joined forces, [they’d] be done. Everything would be done. It would’ve been an apocalypse. So, [they] had to devise a way to turn poor whites and poor Blacks against each other, so that they’d be forever separated and unwilling to join hands and raise fists against the elite. And the way [they] did this was by creating (wait for it…) White privileges” (26-27).
Reynolds then explains how this white right to police Black bodies was one of the first cases of this white privilege:
“So White privileges were created, and, at this time, they included:
Only the white rebels were pardoned; legislators prescribed thirty lashes for any slave who lifted a hand ‘against any Christian’ (Christian now meant White).
All whites now wielded absolute power to abuse any African person. These are the two most important ones - poor whites wouldn’t be punished, but they could surely do the punishing.”
Therefore, to be born white was to be given absolute power over Black bodies. To be born white was to essentially be given the birthright to police Black bodies. Again, to be white was to be a cop before there ever was a badge.
Does This Mean That Blue Lives Do, In Fact, Matter?
Of course not. Think about it: which “blue lives” are they talking about when they say “blue lives matter”? Do Brown “blue lives” matter? Do Black “blue lives” matter? In the cases of Milton Green, Jemel Roberson, and other Black officers, they clearly do not. Therefore, here, Blue means white “Blue Lives Matter.” White is synonymous to blue.
Blue Lives Matter, like All Lives Matter, has always been a counter-movement to silence the BLACK LIVES MATTER movement. Blue Lives Matter means white cops matter. That is the heart of this movement: White power matters. White policing of black bodies matter. White supremacy matters.
This is why to say blue lives do not exist is to leave out the violent history of how white privilege was created in this country. It erases how very much of the creation of “whiteness” was the creation, dehumanization, and policing of “Blackness.” The creation of whiteness is henceforth, synonymous with the policing of Blackness.
Once Again: Abolish The Police
Getting rid of cops, or heavily defunding and restructuring the entire system of policing, is definitely a goal, but it isn’t the end goal. Under a system of white supremacy, we can get rid of cops and Black and Brown people will still die. Therefore, the end goal is to dismantle the entire system of white supremacy.
Ridding whiteness of supremacy is the goal. Ridding whiteness from the institutional power to police others is the goal.
This is the opinion of Jolie Brownell, a junior from Portland, OR.
Black Joy and Poetic Eloquence: Sitting Down with Jolie Brownell
by Megan Loreto
Jolie Brownell is a rising junior at LMU majoring in women and gender studies and minoring in African American studies and sociology. She is a writer, speaker, artist and the author of several collections of poetry. She recently sat down with Megan Loreto, Agency’s Arts and Culture Editor, to discuss the release of two new ebooks: You’re Cute, But Are You Woke? and Nappy Headed Teachings Vol. I. You can purchase them on her website.
Megan Loreto (ML): Jolie, thank you so much for interviewing with us. I love your work and I am so excited to hear more about it. When did you first begin to write and when did you begin to consider yourself a writer?
Jolie Brownell (JB): I started writing when I was 13 years old. I was never good at journaling or grammar even, but one day I came across this blog that had a lot of toxic messages geared towards teenage girls. This blog had an open blogger format and so I became one of their bloggers and started counteracting those negative messages with positive and empowering ones. It was so much fun and I gathered quite a following… that is, until they literally kicked me off their site a year or so later, because my uplifting messages “tainted their brand,” LOL. I didn’t consider myself a writer at that time, just a girl who wanted to empower girls through writing.
It wasn’t until I published my first book at 17, that I considered myself a writer. Selling hundreds of copies of my book all on my own (without a publisher) was a really rad feeling. It was like, “oh, people like my writing enough to buy it,” that must mean I am a writer or at least a decent enough one.
ML: What do you enjoy most about poetry, which seems to be your preferred medium?
JB: It took even longer to consider myself a poet. I can’t actually remember the first time I started writing poetry, but I also think it was around freshman year of high school during our poetry unit in English class. I liked how beautiful, simple, and concise poetry is, and started playing around with it a little. Now, poetry is my main writing style. I love writing research papers too, but that’s a whole different thing.
ML: What does your process look like? Who/what are some of your inspirations?
JB: I write poetry almost daily. It has become integral to the core of who I am. I think, process, and exist through poetry. “I am a writer; I feel in syllables” (JVB 2017).
My writing process usually starts with inspiration. I may see an image, come across a certain color (usually bright fun colors) and/or hear a word that inspires something in me. I’ll screenshot it and or jot the word down and then when I have some time, I’ll write from that place of inspiration. Actually, my entire Instagram “saved” folder is filled with images, quotes and or people who inspire me. I have countless images of beautiful Black women, pro-radical liberation quotes and shots of Beyonce (because Beyonce). It’s the new Pinterest. A lot of my inspiration comes from there.
Also, sometimes poems just flow right out of me, no inspiration needed. This does not happen often, but when it does, these poems always turn out to be my favorites.
ML: Your work is very much centered in the idea of intersectionality, first termed by Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989. One of my favorite parts of your collections and something I first saw on your Instagram was your "disclaimer" that really does a great job visually illustrating the way your work is (to borrow a phrase from you), "pro-dismantling all systems of oppression."
JB: I learned about KimberlĂ© Crenshaw’s “intersectionality” freshman year of college and it changed everything for me. It changed how I see and understand the world and myself in the world. Many times, I believe we are taught only one perspective, one side of a story, or one part of a person’s identity, yet intersectionality challenges this notion and pushes us to consider different viewpoints and completely different ways of analyzing. Intersectionality complicates things (in a good way), as it shows what is possible, what new solutions are possible, when we dive into the complexities of the world and who we are.
On a more personal note, intersectionality has helped me understand how my multiple identities (Black, adopted, femme-identifying, immigrant, etc.) relate to one another and make me who I am. I am beautifully complex, and Crenshaw’s “intersectionality” helped me revel in this fact.
And YES, I am pro-all forms of liberation. I believe that while fighting for my own liberation, it is absolutely necessary to fight for other’s liberation, even if their liberation looks different from my own. There is not one form of freedom, but in order to give everyone access to these forms of freedom, we must first dismantle all forms of oppression. There is no other way!
ML: The way you explain your ideas is very accessible even to readers not familiar with Crenshaw's work. Why is it important to you that these ideas are clearly and explicitly expressed?
JB: Thank you so much for asking me this question, because it is central to my goal for my work. I want my work to be as accessible as possible. This said, I understand that my story, my intersection of identities does not make me palatable for everyone and that is okay. So, what I really want is to be accessible for those who choose to read and engage with my work.
Studying in college I’ve learned a lot of cool new words and concepts, which is great, but at the same time I’ve learned just how inaccessible many of these words and concepts are. Not only in the costs of buying such resources, but also in the very language these resources are written in. I almost always need a dictionary when reading these “college-level” texts, and while I appreciate this opportunity to learn, I realize this is not the reality for everyone. My hope and mission then, is to take what I’ve learned, process it for myself and then relay it back through poetry. In other words, take these huge “intellectual” words, and make them smaller, more accessible and more beautiful.
Especially now, when there is a revolution emerging and there are a lot of big concepts being thrown around like “police brutality,” “abolishment,” “white supremacy,” etc. people fear what they don’t fully understand and therefore, there is a need to break these concepts down for people to understand them and hopefully be inspired to get on board. Like Toni Cade Bambara said so eloquently, “The purpose of a writer is to make revolution irresistible.”
This is especially my mission and hope for my latest work, You’re Cute, But Are You Woke? poetry ebook. Breaking down what the word “woke” really means, not only for myself, but also in relation to eradicating systems of oppression.
ML: One of the collections of poetry you recently released, Nappy Headed Teachings centers around the deconstruction of the beauty standards that our society upholds for Black women, girls and femmes. In several poems you very eloquently speak to the way that these standards are imposed by racism, sexism and capitalism. Will you expand on this idea? How do you integrate the work of combating these standards into your daily life?
JB: The simplest way I can further explain this is through hierarchies. Sexism is the hierarchy that places men above women and heterosexuality above anything else. Racism is the hierarchy that places value on lighter/whiter skin (on top) and darker/blacker skin with less value (on the bottom). Beauty standards then, as a mode of sexism (increasing a woman's value through appearance) also ties to racism. Society places greater value on lighter/white women than they do on darker/blacker women. Another term for this is colorism. Additionally, society’s valuing of skinnier/thinner over curvy/fatter bodies is also historically racist. A great book to read/learn more about this is Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia by Sabrina Strings.
As a curvy dark skin woman, I grew up being surrounded by messages of how I was not enough; not thin enough, not light enough, not woman (feminine) enough. This depleted a lot of my confidence and it would take me a long time to learn to love and appreciate myself for who I am. As I mentioned before, I started writing in order to empower others. I also did it to help empower myself as well. Yet, through this empowerment I realized that woman/femme- identifying folks needed more than to just hear “love yourself.” They needed to understand why these outside messages telling them they were not enough existed in the first place and why they continue to be perpetuated. The “why” I keep coming across is capitalism. By teaching us that we are not “enough,” we are then sold things that will make us more beautiful. We are sold beauty. This can only work if there is a lacking (sexism) AND if there is a beauty ideal to aspire to (racism).
My poetry ebook Nappy Headed Teachings is my celebration of me saying FU to these systems that are hell bent on telling me I am not enough. I want all women and femme-identifying folks, especially Black femmes to love themselves without the need to change themselves first. Our blackness does not need lightening. Our hair does not need straightening. Our bodies do not need tightening in order to be beautiful. We just are. How fucking radical is that?!
ML: Your work also touches very beautifully upon the topics of growth and self-actualization. One of my favorite poems from You're Cute But Are You Woke is "It is okay for your words to grow." What are some ways you challenge yourself to grow?
JB: I love learning. I accepted the title “nerd” a long time ago. My dad always told me that “the more you learn, the more you realize you don’t know.” This turns out to be very true, and while for many the “unknown” is a scary place to be, I challenge myself, through my poetry, to go there. Step into the unknown. In order to do this, I read A LOT. Yes, I am that student who reads the WHOLE 50 page reading before class. I love it. I am currently reading Pleasure Politics by Adrienne M. Brown. It’s epic! If you’ve read it, DM, and let’s talk about it!
...I also challenge myself to do a lot of “unlearning.” Living in these systems of capitalism, patriarchy, and racism, we are all conditioned into believing certain things. For instance, the whole idea that there are just two sexes/genders. This is bogus. Science has proven the existence of multiple sexes (i.e. intersexed individuals). Also, gender is non-binary. These truths just happened to be left out of our biology books. Like, WTF? I want to know WHY they were left out. Why weren’t we taught certain things? I am forever curious.
Finally, I challenge myself to sit in places of discomfort. This is all part of the “unlearning.” Thankfully, my curiosity seems to trump whatever fear or discomfort I may have with learning new things. So, every time I feel a sense of “ooh, but that makes me uncomfortable,” I push myself to sit in that discomfort a little longer. This is the ONLY way you grow, by stepping outside your comfort zone.
ML: Though your poems explore deep themes, so much joy can be found in your work. You wrote, not long after the death of George Floyd, about the necessity for everyone who believes that Black Lives Matter to celebrate Black joy, invest in Black dreams and fight for Black life, not just justice after death. That being said, what brings you joy in these moments?
JB: Yes. Yes. YES!
As an artist, I am putting myself up for consumption. I want readers to consume (or take in) my art, and in essence, consume me. This said, I do not want readers and viewers of my art to only take away with them the pain and frustration that I feel. While these emotions and realities are very real for me, I don’t want them to forget about my joy, laughter and light.
I am all of it. I am my trauma, my happiness, my anger, my dreams, my joy, my sadness, my sexiness, my exhaustion. Therefore, I want you to take in my smile, as you read about my pain. I want you to see bright colors as you read through my anger. I want you to take it all in. Not to overwhelm you, but to remind you that we are both human. We are everything at once. We are complex. We are contradictions. We are multifaceted. We are beautiful.
Fighting for my joy is just as important, or actually no, more important than fighting to dismantle my oppression. My Black joy is important. My Black femme joy is my right. My joy is a big middle finger up to all oppressive systems trying to steal my life away from me.
During these trying times, especially, my joy is crucial. Currently, things that have been bringing me the most joy are reading affirming texts by Black women/femmes, getting dressed up and doing self-timer photoshoots in my backyard, twerking to Beyonce’s SAVAGE remix, binge watching my favorite Netflix shows, making fun new things (like homemade Kombucha), and writing poetry of course.
May we continue to choose our right to joy.
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