Gotta Start Somewhere

I just graduated college at 20 years old and yes I’m flexing. But, I have no time to feel proud of myself in the midst of the incessant barrage of interrogative questions about what I'm “doing” now. My response is usually a quick spiel about writing and going to graduate school at some point. Some people ask me what I write about, which I appreciate. Despite this appreciation, I usually provide ambiguous answers about the human experience; usually enough to satiate the feigned interest of the inquirer and send them on their way.

Truly, I started writing because of the traumas of white supremacy. But I can’t quite tell everyone that. I grew up in a weird and white town. As a result, I was a weird (and white) Black kid. I left, and that changed. At the University of Iowa I met some people, read some things, and wrote some things. I started a personal journal, where I wrote/write an anthology of things. Writing became my most powerful tool for navigating the depth of my emotions. Everything I’ve learned about myself (and the world) in these past few years has been the fruit of a quiet labor of reflection and prose. I went through things, and instead of hiding from them and letting them rule me, I dove into them. In the midst of this process, I happened to glean an interest in the workings of the world’s power structures. There’s more to that I might expound upon in the future.

I was asked once if I wanted to ‘be an activist’. Do I aspire to activism? Yes. Do I consider activism an occupation? No. Activism is a commitment to social change, and I think my experiences have opened up my worldview and brought me to a place of understanding — a place where I can emphatically claim that activism is a necessary element of all our lives. The world is frightening, no? That’s been true since long before the arrival of Donald Trump. Any semi-aware person understands that things are not going smoothly on this planet. Operating from that perspective, one would ask who would maintain an aversion to activism? So I say and write shit. I’ve been letting off sound bites, but if I am taking this writing thing seriously, then I have to muster the courage to consistently share my perspective.

For me, writing and reflection replaces the haze of misunderstanding with a therapeutic dose of clarity. Writing never really solves my personal qualms, but the extended conversation with myself sometimes ends in revelation. And truly, sometimes it doesn’t. Still, I like being able to see my demons in high definition; writing helps me with that. When I lack a willing ear to listen, the pages of my journal are always willing to bear the ink. Somewhere between when I started writing and now, I began to identify as an artist. When I write, I embark on an explorative and imaginative journey, and my prose serves as my travel log. If it just so happens that my travel logs change a worldview or inspire a reader to take their own trips then so be it.

I wrote all this today, despite having drafts and previous works saved up, but I think this is a good starting point. I just need to get this shit out so y’all know where I’m working from. An artist has the lofty hopes of changing the world, and I can’t do that if I keep my thoughts only to myself.

Stay tuned!

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