“I might be too strung out on compliments, overdosed on confidence. Started not to give a fuck then stopped fearing the consequence. Drinkin every night because we drink to my accomplishments, faded way too long, I’m floatin in and outta consciousness.” Yo. I been ON a Drake moment lately. But I’m not all in my feelins though. Don’t try to play me! Okay. Maybe I am all in my feelins. But I’m allowed! Dag nabit! Soooo I’m writing this on my phone in the theater because I’m on book for tech because I’m tryna make some money so I could go to LA wit my sister for my birthday. The struggle, she art real.
I digress, it’s time to get into topic time. I haven’t been sleeping lately, which leads to me having some real conversations and moments because my usual guard is SO down because I’m running on reserves. I actually prefer my life on reserve sometimes. I appreciate and observe the world in such a different way when completely exhausted. I digress twice, I have yet to get real theatery on this blog. Well, get ready.
My current favorite play is a piece of work written by Angelina Weld Grimke written in 1916 by the name of Rachel. If you haven’t read it, get on that shit. It is dope. It is dated. It is a representation of life in 1916 for a black queer woman who has the world on her shoulders and no way to split the weight. As a black queer theater creator, I’ve been wondering why I’m in the spaces that I often find myself in. I’m weird. I’m not just an actor, dancer, singer, director, writer, etc. I don’t fit in. I feel called to do many things. To wear many hats. I get so excited and grateful to be in the space. All I ever want in life, is the chance to be in the space and soak up information around me like a sponge. I will never be able to gain enough knowledge. Lately, I’ve been acting more than I have in a long while, jumping from gig to gig without room to breathe and it feels wonderful. I get to do what I love! But as I’m feeling so blessed, something is also off. I find myself questioning my role in the room dominated by “well-meaning” white people as a black queer woman and also theater creator who speaks very directly and truthfully without apology. How do I use my voice? Do I use my voice? Should I use my voice? Why do I feel silenced?
The other day, when walking home with a friend, I was given SO much information that I needed a day to really absorb. One of the things we spoke about, was an amazing woman by the name of Mama D. Mama D, is a singer/songwriter, activist, actor, photographer, basically anything you can think of. Her music is soul deep. (Side note: Mama D’s website is http://www.horizondancer.com, she’s dope af, look her up) She calls herself a horizon dancer, which my friend then explained to me. True to form, let us head to the land of Merriam-Webster.
Horizon: (noun) the line at which the earth’s surface and the sky appear to meet
the limit of a person’s mental perception, experience, or interest
My friend’s definition of a Horizon Dancer, was a person who lives as the horizon. Unexplainable, maybe not even real, an illusion, truthful, straight to the point, beautiful, in solitude. “One of the things that Mama D pledges her life to is solitude.” He explained. This threw me for about 50 loops. Solitude is one of the most important elements of life in my mind. What do I find in solitude that gives me a voice? How do I filter these spaces and not lose me?
All these unanswered questions! In all honesty, I’m not concerned with answers. I don’t always want to figure everything out. Let me flounder a lil bit. I never want to be comfortable. I always want to be questioning and living in enough discomfort to keep me active and searching. So am I uncomfortable overall? Yep. Is it fucked up? Yep. Do I want it to end? Nope. I still have so much to learn.
This sleep deprived moment is a pure example of my brain. All over the place and never quite getting back to slide A. Oh well, maybe that’s just what makes me special.
Peace, Love, and Solitude