Tuesday, May 17, 2011


I've been reading alot of literature to lift up my spirits, mostly the experiences of other women of color. This helps. I'll be posting literature that has been feeding my soul, and propelling me forward, hope it feeds and propels yours.

Shaunga Tagore: “A Slam on Feminism in Academia (poem)

your ideal graduate student is
someone who doesn’t have to experience community organizing
because you’ve already assigned them five chapters to read about it

your ideal graduate student is
someone who can’t talk about positionality or privilege
without referencing some article

your ideal graduate student is
rich enough
white enough
straight enough
able-bodied and -minded enough
to be given luxury of enjoying sitting in a corner reading 900 pages a week
(with their fair trade starbucks coffee in hand and their lulu lemon track pants on ass)

your ideal graduate student

so WHY did you let me through these doors in the first place
if you were just gonna turn around and shove me out?

to fill some quote for affirmative action?
to appear like a progressive program without putting in the effort of actually being one?

Wednesday, May 11, 2011


Our ancestors suffered the lash
the devastation of their children being ripped away
only to drink in the pysche of the oppressor
Of our bodies being used to inflict pain
to force depraved pleasure
to breed
to erase...
Our words
made "easier"
for those who would rather press us down
hoping the cracks will swallow us whole

The desolation of not having anything to eat
of standing in the welfare lines
of working with no return
Of playing the game to feed
to clothe
to shelter
to get by
some call it the "shuck and jive"
others call it the grind
We survive

We've felt
the sting of unanswered questions
cold lessons
about living
a woman
than the norm

In a tiny space
a hand touches the head of a child
whispering secrets passed down from determined mouths
"Keep going young one. The world is yours.
You're a shining star you are.
I've tried for you, for you to live.
Ain't that a blessing?
Ain't that a victory?
Ain't that a gift?
Keep going, keeping going, keep going..."
And the child sleeps
And the child can rest
And can find something in the pockets and corners
of resistance
in the side glances
in the little rhythms of "mhmms" and the "i know what that is"
in the head nods
The gazes
In the people gathering to lift their voices
To make the world one where all can live
The child can rest
the child can dream
just like those before us did


Excerpt from “The Bridge Poem” by Donna Kate Rushin

I’ve had enough
I’m sick of seeing and touching
Both sides of things
Sick of being the damn bridge for everybody

Can talk to anybody
Without me

I explain my mother to my father my father to my little sister
My little sister to my brother my brother to the white feminists
The white feminists to the Black church folks the Black church folks
To the ex-hippies the ex-hippies to the Black separatists the
Black separatists to the artists the artists to my friends’ parents.

I’ve got to explain myself
To everybody

I do more translating
Than the Gawdamn U.N.