Hey Speakers! Some healing for the day Xx
” Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” – 1 Corinthians 13
It’s so cheesy of me to take this passage that so many people use, but I went to an art display recently and I found it staring back at me and as someone who is not religious at all, but very spiritual, I find that there’s a little bit of truth in everything. Welcome back to #BlackWomxnWorkThroughTrauma’s last week. This week, I wanted to focus on Learning Liberation surrounding “Love” not as an idea, but as a reality.
When I think of the word love, what immediately pops into my head is what I’ve been conditioned with by society. Films, tv shows, ads, church and familial expectations, peer pressure, etc, these all help to inform my personal view of what giving and receiving love looks like. One thing I realize is that up until this point in my life, I’ve been searching for love but never really established just what love is and looks like for myself. It’s one thing to know what love feels like and to know especially, if you’ve experienced some sort of abuse, just what love is not. What about what happens when love looks and feels like abuse because that’s what we’ve been taught? I am not a fan of gender roles or traditional relationships in the form of monogamy, because I really do believe that love should always be free, honest, and communicative.
I put 1 Corinthians 13 up there because I realize that through this month of #BlackWomxnWorkThroughTrauma, I’ve been working through each week myself as well as with you all and what I’ve come to realize is that the definition of love starts for me with how I choose to love myself. Just how do I affirm my selfhood? Am I patient and kind with myself? How do I protect myself? How do I trust myself? How do I guard my truth? If I can’t answer those definitively, then I haven’t been truly loving myself as I deserve. I deserve the highest amount of love from myself. We all do. Love isn’t the superficial. Love is depth.
For the last post of #BlackWomxnWorkThroughTrauma:
I found my life partner
In between being
abused and being worshipped I found that I want or need neither.
I was searching for her all along, and him, and them
It all fit.
I put it together early on that I was queer
In the midst of friendships there was something
That fit so right here
I just loved
My friends were more in every sense of the word
and I discovered a deep well of love and what didn’t belong
and I don’t have to explain that to
-Damali Rose Xion
“You have to be aware of all your surroundings!” Andrena came at Cora with her walking stick ready to be brought down in a crushing blow. Cora quickly ran and unfurled her wings and let loose an arrow in mid-flight. It flew exactly where she aimed it and yet still, her mother moved away just in time. “I am! Mother!” Cora was out of breath and yet still pressed on. “Again”.
Andrena was a merciless teacher. She used anything she deemed fair in a fight and for her that meant any and all power she wielded. Her weapon of choice was a huge walking stick, the symbol of her people emblazoned on it. “Feel the current of the energy. Feel your feet on the ground, the wind at your back, the beat of your heart. Hear your breath. Now see what I’m going to do. See it in your mind before it happens and you will stop it. “ Andrena watched her young daughters’ eyes glow a subtle red before she closed them in concentration. “Harness it. Trust it.” The energy around Cora lit up and when her eyes opened again, her whole eyes glowed with blood red light. “Let’s go mother. I’m waiting.” The energy changed her daughters’ voice in a way Andrena hadn’t heard before and she had the lightest bit of hesitation in her movement that not even Cora could’ve picked up on.
The two squared off. Andrena lunged as Cora ducked and managed to grab Andrena’s walking stick and turn it around to trip her mother in mid-lunge and place the stick above Andrena’s head in what would be a killing blow. Cora’s eyes slowly returned to their usual deep brown with no sign of what they had been only moments ago. Both women stopped for a second, surprised at what just took place before Cora extended her hand to Andrena and helped her up, returning her walking stick to her left hand and standing in conference of the morning battle lesson.
“How do you feel?” Andrena said. “Like I just tapped into something greater than me.“ Cora turned to sit on a nearby rock. “That’s your power. You’re stronger than you realize. One day, you’ll be stronger than me.” Andrena pushed herself up and sat on a rock opposite her daughter. “I don’t understand. How can I be stronger than you?” Andrena caressed her daughters beautiful brown face with eyes that shown so brightly. The face that looked so much like her own. “You’ll innerstand it one day my love. Now, we need to get moving. We’re getting a visitor for dinner.” Andrena stood, stretched her long limbs and began to move toward their village. “A visitor? Who could possibly be visiting us mother?” Cora said with doubt. They never received anyone in the village. Everyone of importance lived with them. “Martol” Andrena responded, her back turned away from Cora as they walked.
“My father?! Martol? The man you never even talk about, much less see? What would he be doing here?” Cora was shocked. “I see someone’s been snooping.” Andrena responded. “I know that you’ve known his name. But you’ve yet to meet him. That was my error. I feared that you would see so much of yourself in him.” Cora didn’t quite understand what her mother meant. “So much of myself. Is that…” she trailed off. “You’ll see” Andrena replied.
Cora had only ever heard her father’s name mentioned once during a convened council that she snuck in on as a young girl when her powers were too great for her to control at times. She had used her abilities of sight to keep watch on her mother and that accidentally led to sneaking in on a council meeting and hearing the name of the man who fathered her. Martol the Warlock. She couldn’t imagine just what her mother was planning, but she knew it came from a place she couldn’t yet grasp.
Cora woke to the sounds of the pilot exclaiming that they had safely landed at JFK Airport. She felt unsure and confused. What had she just dreamed? It had seemed more memory than dream and she saw her mother clearly. Martol, her father was there as well. There would be more time to think on it later and she slowly brought herself back to her surroundings with slow breath, removed her headphones and waited until the seatbelt sign flashed so that she could remove her seatbelt and retrieve her few belongings. She waited until it was her row’s turn to disembark and she walked as though in a dream off the plane and into the airport. It seemed to take forever for her to grab her bags and find the gate where she told her mother to meet her. Just as she was about to get frustrated about where to find her with a dead cell phone she heard a voice behind her. “Hello my love” Cora turned to see Andrena standing right in front of her, arms open. “Hello mother”. Cora slipped into her mothers’ arms and took in her scent, the feel of her skin and the warm stability that she always emitted. “Let’s get you home, shall we?” Cora simply nodded and smiled and allowed herself the time and space to enjoy her mother and the world of home.
*The name of the character of Brenda has been changed to Bridgid*
Cora stood in front of Bridgid, breathing even as they kept eye contact. “What do you see?” she asked. “Your pupils are purple this time.” Cora blinked and laughed as she moved to lean against the kitchen counter. “Pretty purple or bruised and battered purple?” Together they laughed as Bridgid situated herself back in her spot against the doorway. They stood directly across from each other as they spoke. “Pretty purple. Light purple. A little inhuman but not too shocking even if you did catch me off guard.”
Cora stared into Brigid’s eyes, the purple getting brighter as they played the staring game they often played in the moments like this. “Do me a favor? Look at yourself in the window. Bridgid looked past Cora to the window to see her own pupils looking back at her with not the usual deep dark black but a light brown. “Am I mirroring you?” There was light concern in her voice. “No. You’re cultivating that entirely on your own.” “So, what now? Do we both just stand here?” Cora laughed. “We don’t have to. Or we can. But before we decide the course of action, how about you check that cake?” Bridgid walked over to the oven and opened it.
The smell that wafted up at her was heavenly and there in front of her eyes was a beautiful cake the very same shade as Cora’s eyes. “Done already? Just 4 short minutes. I love when you do that.” Bridgid sighed as she took the cake from the oven and placed the glowing pile of sweetness atop the stove. “Do what?” Cora asked, genuinely curious. “Use your powers to heal. I’ll miss it.” Cora sighed. “ It wasn’t just me working on that cake. You have incredible powers of your own. Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean that I won’t be with you. It doesn’t make us any more separated. Physicality is a trick. You can be anywhere that you choose to be.”
Cora walked up to Bridgid’s back and with love and care placed her hands around her waist and moved one hand up to Bridgid’s heart. Speaking right into her ear she said “I love you and that’s never going to change. Trust it. Trust me. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, baby.” She gently kissed Brigid’s cheek lingering for only a short second before Bridgid turned and lightly placed a kiss on her lips. They hovered for a moment, light purple pupils staring into light brown before Cora cut herself a piece of cake. She carried the piece of cake with her as her eyes returned to their deep dark brown and she walked down the hallway to finish her packing. “I wish you would stay.” Bridgid whispered, cut a piece of cake and turned to look in the window as her pupils slowly faded back to their usual black.
Cora sat on the plane completely at ease. It was early in the morning, or should we say night. It was 5:55am and her plane took off in two minutes. The sun wasn’t yet up and most of the people on the plane were asleep. She and Bridgid had woken up this morning with a combination of sadness and excitement. It was unclear what would happen next for both of them together and apart. They could only plan so far into the future without time travel. No, time travel doesn’t exist in this particular story…well, at least not yet. They had spent the morning in each other’s arms, talking without speaking words. Cora believed in their abilities and their intimacy. She apologized for seeming cold. It was often in her life that when she was working through her thoughts, her abilities, she could seem detached only because she withdrew deeply into herself. Bridgid didn’t push her. She understood. She did much of the same.
When Bridgid dropped her off at the airport, they held each other tightly, wanting to somehow keep the other from moving, but time continued and Cora took her bags and left through the boarding gate. Cora hated the way airplanes were stuffy, but loved the idea of flying. She seemed to remember a time, faint in the back of her mind when she could fly. Maybe it was just a dream, a fantasy in her subconscious. With 5 hours to spare, Cora closed her eyes, turned on Solfeggio frequencies on her Walkman and fell asleep.
Te Amo Mas Que
I loved you more than I knew how
You had to teach me
But I was a fast learner
I used to watch you sleep and when you wrapped your arms around me
I wanted it to be forever
I knew when I boarded that plane that you would never join me here
Our listening ears were never meant to work
Joy and Splendor
met with betrayal on a sunny day and planned their escape
Healing work for you eclipsed any of what we could have been and denial of
Queerness left me feeling alone
He mistreated you and I witnessed what you couldn’t let me give
“I know you”
that’s what I said when I first met you
I knew that we had met before and that we were game changers
of a different kind
When I fell in love with you
I don’t think ill of the day you left
You gave me so much but really all I wanted was for you to
Be whole with me
“You have to be willing to teach men, baby.” My mother said as we delved deeper into both conversation and cheesecake. I looked up at her like “Que?!” This was coming from the woman who raised me and my brother as a single parent, and is now happily tied with my stepfather as they treat each other like beautiful gifts instead of roles to be set and conquered. I sat confused. I sat hurt, not because of anything to do with sexism or patriarchy, but because in some ways I was reaching too high and my wings “needed” to be clipped by a “reality” that I never consented to join in the first place.
Hey Speakerz! Yet another Meaning-Full Monday with yet another blog post! This week was one that seemed to fly by and while time is a social construct, I do think that weeks/days/years/hours/seconds have their own distinct feel. Last week felt like Unlearning to me. “Unlearning” is a term that my friends and I tend to use in conversation regarding discovery of self and the world around us. Most of us are millennials in our mid-late 20’s. Yes, we’re the ones who are constantly shit on for being different. Every generation has their “moment” in which the previous are like “they’re destroying everything” and we’re no different. “Unlearning” encompasses the act of deconstruction. Taking apart everything that you’ve been taught, evaluating and deciding what to salvage, what to discard and how to move forward. Today’s post is largely concerning “unlearning”, “re-learning” and “open-mindedness” in terms of black queer womxnhood in conjunction with experiencing patriarchy, sexism and misogyny.
The other day, I sat with my mother in Juniors (a magnificent place for Cheesecake in NYC. Like seriously. Go there) and as we sat and talked, she asked me some important questions as she usually does. Black mothers have this uncanny way of making you think about the exact thing that you might have been avoiding in a gentle but firm way. I honestly think it’s genetics. But I digress, my parents who are older than your average Millennial parent have no idea what to do with me or the Millennials in general. Sometimes when I talk with my mother, our views clash because I have no intention of living my life as the generations before lived theirs and I realize that the uncertainty in many ways leaves anxiety for those who are nearing the end of their cycles on this plane.
Explaining my Openness in my sexuality to my mother was something that I never really considered as an anniversary, mark on the calendar moment. I never really had a “coming out” moment. She knows my preferences and has her own reservations and homophobic moments and I establish boundaries. I’ve been attracted to so many various types of people for so long that for me, embracing the fact that a “scale” of attraction is in many ways unnecessary for me. Embracing a label, even Queerness is something that I use for convenience in conversation rather than to define myself. At the same time, as long as I know myself well, and know what it is that I want and need and can communicate that openly and honestly, then that’s all that should matter right?
One topic of conversation that sat so strongly with me all week was the danger in being so open-minded. With all the beautiful, brown, open and openminded womxn that I know and love, all of us have found great love amid great strife. As educated and in many ways privileged as we are, we find ways to filter a space that annihilates ideals of right and wrong, good and bad and ugly and beautiful. We simply exist in our truth as different and in many ways holy as they are. Black and brown womxn in the new generations in specific seem to be unwilling to compromise as we move forward and I honestly believe that is what will change the world for the better.
This idea that womxn have to be gentle with men and their fragile egos is something that I find myself and my sisters pushing back on. If I can dismantle the problematic ideology that I was conditioned with, so should men. The expectation should be present more than anything else. Let’s change the narrative. I’m finding more and more that as we unpack this conditioning of marriage and children being the height of a womxns’ life, we find more equality and stability. I have no intentions of being “equal” with anyone. I have every intention of engaging in humanity. I’m human and so are you, different as we are. I want equity. I want accountability.
So often, I’ve been confronted with conversations that start with “well that’s just how it is”. But don’t “we” as a society make it that way? Therefore, that very same “we” can dismantle it. Taking part in the problematic behavior does nothing to correct it. Blame and shame are games that society toys with, especially with black women. We are shamed for our preferences, for our thoughts, for daring to reach higher than our foremothers did. Yet still, we do so unapologetically. Therein lies the danger. To be black and womxn is dangerous. To be black, womxn and open is another type of danger entirely. To have an open mind in my opinion, which changes every day is to acknowledge that learning is constant. I may think/feel this way today, but tomorrow, I can think/feel something else entirely. I grow with every moment that I spend in this body, time, place, etc. To find all types of people sexy, to want to experience them sexually, intimately, emotionally, and/or otherwise and to be unapologetic about that behavior is in many ways contradictory to society’s goals of sameness and this is again seen as dangerous. It is something to be ashamed of rather than liberated by. Sexual assault is not a coincidence or a random throw of the dice, it’s a tactic.
Patriarchy and misogyny along with a host of other societal pressures and conditioning prevents human beings from fully experiencing our whole range of capability. Black Queer Womxn have for centuries turned all ideology on it’s head and for that we’ve been assaulted, molested, raped, killed, etc. It may hurt to speak about, but poison bites two ways, on the way in and on the way out. To acknowledge and to move forward is to raise a new generation of womxn. Womxn who are strong and fearless, are human and precious. It’s all a part of the un-learning.
Re-Learning is fun because it’s all a new process. Actively creating a new way of operation is a part of the healing process. We can’t have one without the other. In positions of privilege, how do we as human beings and more specifically as black and brown people, best support one another?
Do we listen? I’ve been reading a lot of articles recently on the importance of knowing how to listen. Last week, I was with two friends, both black males and I just sat and listened. There came a point where they both asked me what I thought about something and while I gathered my thoughts, they talked over and past me and soon the moment was gone. I could’ve pointed out the misogyny, but I decided that all of this was a learning moment for me. I don’t always want to have to teach men, especially black men about their patriarchal tendencies. Be accountable for and to your own self!
Just how do I listen? I enjoy listening to others speak and while I take everything in, I become a sponge. I’m not in a talking mode because I’m fully invested in listening mode. So often we listen to respond and especially for those conditioned as male, the expectation to specifically grasp the idea that deep thought is separate from a moment of deep listening isn’t present. Listen with more than just ears. Listen with your whole self, your entire atomic self and see just how much you pick up. I say this for everyone, all people.
How do we spend our time? In my world, time is my most precious friend, partner and confidante. If I choose to spend my time with you, if you have access to me, then you are probably important to me in this moment. How do you decide who gets that access and why? If someone abuses it, how do you handle the misuse?
How often do we pass the mic and let others speak? It’s not always important to speak. Your experience isn’t the only one that matters. There are different levels of this even among black queer womxn. If the space is for a specific moment, acknowledge that and act accordingly.
Everyone wants to feel and be seen. Just see them.
As I continue to grow and learn and listen, I hope that I stay open-minded, but I also commit to doing the work to stay that way. Open-mindedness is a choice. A dangerous one. One that can cost life and love, but I like to think that we can all find completion in what we desire with knowledge of self.
Damali Speaks Xx
Hey Speakerz! If you like the glasses you see me sport on a regular, I make them! You can buy some!
Hey Speakerz! So this week, I was surrounded indirectly with a lot of death. I personally am not as much scared of death as intrigued by it. When I scrolled through the news, there was so much of what seemed to be death and despair, but what I was most drawn to was the fact of human frailty. Today’s topic is on the human existence, death and rebirth.
From the time human beings are born, we’re forced to say both hello and goodbye to so many things in our lives. We say hello to our immediate family members when we’re born and then goodbye when they pass on. We say hello to our friends and as we grow and change, sometimes we leave them behind and move forward and new people come into our lives and stay or go. Every day, we wake up and say hello to a new day and the new possibilities that it brings in its wake. You’d think that we would’ve perfected the art of death and rebirth already. But maybe the question is, how does humanity embrace death and rebirth instead of perfecting it?
We live in a world that strives for perfection, yet human beings are undeniably flawed and that’s what’s so beautiful about us. We make mistakes. We breathe, we reason, we find meaning in each season. Yes, I know, I rhymed purposefully. I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with striving for the best that there is. That’s realistic. It leads me to question how it is that we set goals and then set out to achieve them. How is being intentional with all that you do important in creating balance?
I always set “impossible goals” for myself. This summers’ impossible goal is a short film and believe it or not, it’s actually unfolding, mostly through sheer will and determination. My point is that what seems to be an “impossible goal” can actually be very possible. It’s the challenge that matters. The striving toward and not the completion of a job perfectly done. Why is it that we strive toward the end result? It isn’t just the “hello” and “goodbye” that matter as much as the life in between.
With the end of friendships and relationships, come lessons. When people walk out of my life, it’s generally through no ones’ fault, but just that it’s time to move on. It’s the journey that matters more than anything. When I watch a film, I don’t want to watch just the begging and the end, I want to see the arch.
I went to Barnes & Nobles the other day and saw so many books on getting through missing a person. I thought it was strange and so I set about the dig for what it all meant. Then, I sat down to speak with a friend and they talked about how hard it is to end things or to let someone go. Does it all come back to self worth? Do I have to love myself enough to choose me every time? How much growth is in each goodbye? Literal death forces us to let go and begin a grieving process, but what about the walk away? How do we handle each goodbye no matter how or when with grace and acceptance?
I never did resonate with “Goodbye” but instead leaned toward “Farewell”, the idea that though our journey together ends here, I hope that on your journey as it continues, you fare well with home in yourself, completeness, and a self worthy of all that you are.
Farewell until next time,
Damali Speaks Xx
Hey Speakerz! Back at it again! I am currently writing this from a sort of renewed and re-birthed place. So, if you feel newborn vibes from me, it’s all a part of the cycle. With yesterday being Easter, it was so important to harness the energy of the day as I spent it in Prospect Park in Brooklyn with some wonderful Warriors of Light (I’m calling whoever I meet as my tribe member at any point in time a Warrior of Light) as we worked through our collective pain to re-birth ourselves. Sharing my growth into today is my name. The most difficult thing for me to embrace is my name. My birth name is different from what I feel I need to be called and though I’ve been fighting it for a long time, I’m learning to embrace my true name and my spirit. After all, words are spells and we must use them to bless and not curse. Today’s topic is on Love, Self & Spirit. Let’s dig in!
What’s something that you love so much that you could not drown, but swim in? For me, that’s rain. I love the rain. Yesterday in Prospect Park, it rained heavily for about 15 minutes. It was cold and almost like knives digging into my flesh. I heard people running and screaming around me in fear and I thought. “It’s water.” How can we say that we love water and rain that falls from the sky and yet want to interact with it only from the safety under an umbrella? How have we as human beings and spirits of the Universe lost our selves so much? Loving something, someone, some self, means that we don’t drown in it with the intention of sinking to the bottom, never to be seen or heard from again. To love something wholly, means to swim, to flow with the tide, to ride, to seek, to find solace in, etc. and yet to understand that love is freedom. Set what you love free so that it can roam, live, and be found again anew within you. When we hold on to what is no longer ours, we don’t allow for the energy to flow. We remain stunted in the same loop. To keep the flow of energy going is to create an elevated loop, a deja vu that’s not quite the same.
How do I really love? I know that I’ve been programmed to believe that sex is an act only done with someone you love, love is possession, love is all-encompassing, an act of passion, monogamy, workaholic, self-sacrifice, etc. The more I roam this earth and meet more spirits housed in human bodies, the more I realize that love is so much more than I could ever have imagined. Yesterday, sitting in a cocoon of love, I realized that love doesn’t reflect time. It lives outside of it, yet it is still stable. Grounded. Reveling in love, doesn’t need to mean the things that I was programmed for them to mean. Being in the present with time is understanding the harnessing of present energy and respecting it. Living in the moment and letting that moment live.
How then, do I love my self? How do I establish a relationship with my self so strong that no matter what I do, I am always my authentic self? Self love and self care. Lately, “Self Care” rather than “Self Love” has made it’s way into my vocabulary. How to Care for ones’ Self is an important space to live in, to make a home in. So many human beings have made homes in places and left the self an empty shell. But what if we all became committed to making homes in our selves and roamed in freedom and nature? What would that look like?
Duality. There is an important necessity in duality. The world balances itself out. In every day simple things, we have the presence of a penis, balanced with a vagina. Masculine energies balanced with feminine energies. Warm white light balanced with pure and black energy of creation and absorbed power. As so above, so below. Neither is better or worse, it just is. It is simply, maintenance of balance. As human beings with eternal spirits, how do we revel in our own duality? What is our dark nurtured by our light, what is our wrong nurtured by our right? Still, there isn’t just the two extremes side by side. There’s a whole scale. I’m attracted to the spectrum. I enjoy chocolate, vanilla, and cherry, mango, pineapple, etc. Our duality is all encompassing and we should be allowed to explore and play in it, rather than be forced to pick a side unnecessarily.
This leads to Spirit. Some call it spirit, intuition, “gut instinct”, etc. That feeling in your core at various moments. How often do you listen to it? In the span of a few months, I’ve been training myself to each morning, check in with my self, my intuition, and receive instructions for how to care for the little girl inside of me that still needs raising in so many ways. Sometimes the instructions are sweet: “Make sure to get a good hug and moment in the sun today.” Sometimes the instructions are sour: “Sit your ass down today and write”. Sometimes they just are: ” Fruit is imperative at this time. You need to be sweet and a little sour. Cut out all other foods and listen to the world speak”. Knowing when to listen to intuition versus the ego is crucial. When is my ego speaking? When is it my intuition?
Always operating from a place of love, acceptance and openness is so easy that it’s hard, and I’d be lying if I said that I always did it 100% because I’m human. I falter. But let’s remember to always rise. Move through our collective pain, embrace our human, be free and well, live this life we are blessed with.
Damali Speaks Xx