s.i.l.e.n.c.e w.i.l.l n.o.t p.r.o.t.e.c.t y.o.u.

before this blog & the joys of discovering coltrane. travelling in a plane for the first time. having a pasport bearing identitie(s) i sometimes forget. i lived in a place i could not utter my name(s).

i write about strappy shoes and looking for bras that fit. i think about my butt size and whether my lover will get bored of my midnight rantings. triviality personified. perhaps. i think of the spaces my mother(s) inhabit. several days ago was international womens day. i am a woman. a lover of women.

audre and i. you may not understand my love for audre lorde. she before i. learnt p.o.e.t.i.c.s of a woman's touch. to hell with suffering.

s.i.l.e.n.c.e w.i.l.l n.o.t p.r.o.t.e.c.t m.e




rashawn brazell was b.l.a.c.k. g.i.f.t.e.d y.o.u.n.g & h.o.m.o.s.e.x.u.a.l
body parts that fiested in the imagination of a freenzied ujaama.. rooms of our own to breathe. make love in. fight and curse. rise beyond. claim that which is ours from the dry bones..

i am b.l.a.c.k. g.i.f.t.e.d y.o.u.n.g & b.i.s.e.x.u.a.l

s.i.l.e.n.c.e w.i.l.l n.o.t p.r.o.t.e.c.t u.s

my lover. warrior soldier with tenderness in his gait . i am still i . a lover of women ? while drenched after intoxicating dance..he traces dreams with his tongue..i shudder with yearning lifting my yoni to be joined with his taste

do i hide under normalcy. becoming numb.postelyzing a new religion while clenching in my heart with the long past sweetness of honey.. i insist of this . that life is the journey. my loving IS my loving. my touch is my touch. i know even writing this albeit anonymously is outing myself.
so did rashawn brazell. sakia gunn. marvin page. bayard rustin

we may not gloss the covers of vogue. or our stories part of the black history month
we are what we are. when we are. how we are. we black. fabulous & yes..queer.