A Brief on a Journey to Tenderness

Thank You Lucille Clifton

Being a Black woman creative is one that feels much like both an anointing and a journey of turmoil. For me, cultivating my voice and understanding my gifts has been a journey that has not been without doubt and fear, both of a lack of “success” and of public perception.

There has been this underlying belief of mine that the best of my abilities can only be cultivated by complete isolation. From vices, loved ones, distractions, maybe even life. That stepping outside of that means I was not focused, was not taking the true steps to get the inner work done. I truly believed that all that there is to be found about standing in my gifts were to be found only when I was by myself. But art and life are much the same, and if there is something to be noted it’s that art was never intended to only be created for the eyes of one singular individual. It was meant to be among community, challenging our perceptions and existing past the banality of human existence.

And in all of my doubts, and in all of my fears, I am finding that the greatest gift besides the gift itself is that of the safety found in the women who have crossed my path.

There is a certain vulnerability in the relationship between people who foster a creative safe space for each other. Oftentimes it is in those very moments of creation that we tap into the deepest parts of ourselves. To have that safety with another is to find that sometimes, the only true hindrance between you and taking the leap is someone in your ear telling you to show up for yourself. Better even, for that person (or people) to be those that can both empathize and honor multiple aspects of your identity. And in a world where individualism is trending, those tender moments are necessary.

I am reminded through this poem of Lucille Clifton that life is meant to be filled with the culmination of our gifts, sharing them not only for a freedom of self but for the ways in which our gifts will hug those around us. I hope that this poem can resonate with you, and bring comfort to those who seek comfort’s warmth.

sisters

for elaine philip on her birthday

me and you be sisters.

we be the same.

me and you

coming from the same place.

me and you

be greasing our legs

touching up our edges.

me and you

be scared of rats

be stepping on roaches.

me and you

come running high down purdy street one time

and mama laugh and shake her head at

me and you.

me and you

got babies

got thirty-five

got black

let our hair go back

be loving ourselves

be loving ourselves

be sisters.

only where you sing

i poet.