Frank from Street Poets, Inc. telling us about the conversation he had had with his mother the previous night, who had called to tell her son she was eating his chips, and to send us all her love. Frank also mentioned his grandmother, a strong, no-nonsense woman who slapped young Frank when he complimented her black skin. This only shows how we are taught to hate our skin. In all the years that have passed since hand met face, nothing fundamental has shifted. Frank also shared a story about a rock, and how this rock lay unmoved on the middle of the road and was constantly tripped over and sworn at. Finally, the miller’s daughter came along, and dug it out of the ground to roll it off the path. When she went to cover up the hole, she discovered a box of gold underneath. So many had passed this hidden treasure, and no one had bothered to uncover it for the good of the rest.
STREET POETS INC.
Art who greeted the audience as his family. He spoke honesty about fear, and how it affects him when travelling to other country. Airport, security, lingering gazes. People clutching their bags. Do they always hold their bags like that? “It feels like I’m going crazy.” He told us about taking care of his body by buying “all that organic shit”, and exercising at the end of exhausting days. Yet even runs through the streets of LA brought with them discrimination, as he’d often be harassed by the gangs in the city. He spoke about seeking refuge in restaurants, and swearing at muggers as they pushed him to the floor. He admitted that he not only put himself in danger on the streets, but so also endangered his black brothers. Art spoke about workshops filled with painful poetry and going home broken, and how his communities held each other to deal with the terror.
Jaynese from Street Poets, Inc., who identifies as a black queer woman, and so crosses borders every single day. She shared her views on the conference, on the many questions unanswered and the guilt felt. You don’t need to feel guilty for being white. Nothing that happened during the conference was meant to make anybody feel guilty. These are the facts, and we don’t need your guilt. Nobody is responsible for the system of white supremacy we live in. Yet we are all responsible for changing it.
Street Poets, Inc. opened the stage to everyone who identified as a person of colour, or as a part of the LGTBQ+ community. Beating hearts around. No hesitation for some. Hesitation for others. A line of humans, slowly forming on the stage. The majority of the audience, the ones mostly accepted by our society and the least discriminated, in the dark. The spotlight on the ones that usually go unnoticed. And together these two groups sang to other, united and respected and accepted. Legs shaking. Fingers trembling. Tears in eyes. Arms around strangers. After the last note sounded, hugs were exchanged and groups were arranged for a well-needed check-in. It was an extremely emotional and moving experience. The power of unity and isolation. Of seeing and being seen. An indescribable experience that has left a lasting imprint that won’t soon be wiped over.
