It’s Monday afternoon and after a LONG weekend I find myself sitting in the dining room of a quaint home in the southern part of Austin, Texas. No, I haven’t been kidnapped. I actually came here out of free will, which shouldn’t be that much of a surprise considering the rave reviews I’ve gotten about city for years now.
But it wasn’t the excellent Tex-Mex that’s brought me here (though it might be what keeps me). Fire & Ink, an organization committed to Black GLBT writers, had its 3rd Cotillion this past weekend, fitted with a variety of amazing workshops and panels on everything from memoir and lyrics writing to how to facilitate a writing community. Some of my very favorite individuals in the whole entire world presented and performed there as well, including Lenelle Moise, Djola Branner, Sharon Bridgforth, and both Aurin Squire and Andre Lancaster of Freedom Train Productions, which I’ve been working with all summer as part of their playwrights’ open workshops.
It’s been years since I’ve been to the Mason-Stith-Massenburg Family Reunion as dictated by my biology. But this gathering made up for all the ones I have ever missed and could ever attend in the future. Never have I been an environment so self-reflective and affirming of all of my parts.
In addition to being seriously inspired to work on develop some new pieces and work with new genres, I was also thoroughly entertained and uplifted by the staged readings of Sharon Bridgforth’s delta dandi, E. Patrick Harris’ Pouring Tea, and a concert by the effervescent JOMAMA JONES and her Sweet Peaches.
The conference ended on Sunday morning after a panel discussed the very necessary work of making art to save your own life. The Fire & Ink Board of Directors was acknowledged and opened up the floor for constructive critique of the conference, reminding us that the previously decided every-4th-year would be changed to every 2 for the conferences hereafter. It was then that the emotional timbre of the conference really manifested with three of the youngest participants (myself included) brought to the center of the room and four of the elder artists asked to lay their hands on us. Everyone else made a circle around the room and began granting us their wisdom in a cacophony of positive energy. The break down was fast and deep.
It was an astonishing moment for me – having black hands and voices invoking queerness and artistry into me rather than exorcising it out. It was an empowering moment, having all of my internal wisdom breathed onto my body by living beings. It was the moment that I’d dreamed of – having my tribe acknowledge and affirm me. I didn’t know it would be so hard. Read the rest of this entry »
Fitting that I should talk about art right now seeing as it’s what’s consumed my life for these past few weeks. Oh no, not my own art. Heaven forbid. No no, the art that has devoured me and all my time can be found in the Creative Time exhibition on Governors Island this summer, 
Today was a long one. As I rushed out the door to the subway station in order to get to work on time, I remembered to be grateful for the day gifted me and felt prompted to feel especially grateful for both the predictable and the unpredictable. I don’t know how I could have expected less than the latter during intern orientation day at the very unique Creative Time office. After TMI about office procedures, I was made to take an unexpected trip to Governor’s Island where a bunch of large scale installation art is being put up at the end of the month by artists from around the world working with the organization.
So I think it’s about time to give closure to my experience at Pine Ridge (from about six months ago) and post about it. It seems a world away now, like a vague dream, but one that profoundly affected my academics, the way I see America and my own sense of home and post-undergrad possibilities.
