At the Birmingham Book Festival
Tonight event: Writers without borders: Identity: Our writing World. Poetry in English, kiKongo, Ndebele, Farsi, Croatian, Urdu and Jamaican patois + music. Sounded interesting.
Tina reserved the seats; Rico, Ellen and Vanessa joined in.
Too tired to put anything in any real shape or form so I'll just more or less reproduce what I scribbled in my note book during the course of the evening.
The literary scene in Birmingham is small, nearly a year since I went to any literary event but same familiar faces still. White middle class and Black "conscious" Nubian queens and Dread Brothers. With my Afro today I am right in my element.
Some poets are better read than heard...
Why does identity related writing so often is so bleak?
After a perfomances from an Enlightened Sister Sue B
That is it! I will embrace the cliché my hair style seems to suggest: African Queen, Nubian Princess, Lesbian Black Panther if I ever cut my hair again.
Oh Erykah B, you've spawned so many lookalike, wannabes, caricatures. Renegation of ourrhythmss of life, fighting miseducation, breaking the bond of mental and spiritual slavery she says. I must be too cynical and "sold out" because I'm not impressed nor moved. I've heard way too many times that commitment to the "cause" that doesn't go beyond a few laborious verses and the "alternative" clothing. Would the poetry get as much applause if it was not for the frail, light skinned and dreadlocked Sue? Her yellow, red, green bubble is not mine. Mine is all shades of grey.
Our row composed of Rico, Tina, Vanessa, Ellen and Ireallyy ruined a performance. A sax player, a dancer, a poet: an improvised piece. A white woman screaming with different voices "I have an identity"and wildly gesticulating, pulling her cheeks (!) for more than 3 minutes. I'm stunned, I'm giggling, tears streaming, loosing my breath, rocking the chair. How awful of me, i know but I cant help it. I look around: Tina and Rico are laughing uncontrollably, Vanessa and Ellen are trying to keep it cool with some difficulty, the people behind us are laughing at our reaction, the rest of the audience is dead quiet. The sax is screeching, the white woman is loudly imposing her identity on the audience. We are laughing, and resisting at the same time. I have an identity too.
Tina reserved the seats; Rico, Ellen and Vanessa joined in.
Too tired to put anything in any real shape or form so I'll just more or less reproduce what I scribbled in my note book during the course of the evening.
The literary scene in Birmingham is small, nearly a year since I went to any literary event but same familiar faces still. White middle class and Black "conscious" Nubian queens and Dread Brothers. With my Afro today I am right in my element.
Some poets are better read than heard...
Why does identity related writing so often is so bleak?
After a perfomances from an Enlightened Sister Sue B
That is it! I will embrace the cliché my hair style seems to suggest: African Queen, Nubian Princess, Lesbian Black Panther if I ever cut my hair again.
Oh Erykah B, you've spawned so many lookalike, wannabes, caricatures. Renegation of ourrhythmss of life, fighting miseducation, breaking the bond of mental and spiritual slavery she says. I must be too cynical and "sold out" because I'm not impressed nor moved. I've heard way too many times that commitment to the "cause" that doesn't go beyond a few laborious verses and the "alternative" clothing. Would the poetry get as much applause if it was not for the frail, light skinned and dreadlocked Sue? Her yellow, red, green bubble is not mine. Mine is all shades of grey.
Our row composed of Rico, Tina, Vanessa, Ellen and Ireallyy ruined a performance. A sax player, a dancer, a poet: an improvised piece. A white woman screaming with different voices "I have an identity"and wildly gesticulating, pulling her cheeks (!) for more than 3 minutes. I'm stunned, I'm giggling, tears streaming, loosing my breath, rocking the chair. How awful of me, i know but I cant help it. I look around: Tina and Rico are laughing uncontrollably, Vanessa and Ellen are trying to keep it cool with some difficulty, the people behind us are laughing at our reaction, the rest of the audience is dead quiet. The sax is screeching, the white woman is loudly imposing her identity on the audience. We are laughing, and resisting at the same time. I have an identity too.
posted by Kékéli at 22:24
1 Comments:
I HAVE AN IDENTITY!!!!
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