Much had been taken, rearranged on the strength of your prayers and your ancestors’ bargains. You were alive today and you tasted of mangoes. A debt was owed.
Rosa Parks' practice
As Black somatic practitioners, healers, and yoga instructors offered resources for dealing with the embodied impacts of white supremacy, I was reminded once again that attention to our physical beings is a crucial part of political resistance.
Alvin Armstrong: This Place Looks Different
Even as we live through history and its violent echoes, we play games, we get played, we lean into each other for comfort or convenience. We leave when the cop cars are coming, and sometimes it’s hard to tell where the urgency and crisis of the spectacular meets the ongoing rhythms of the everyday.
Black horse culture and living in pleasure: in conversation with Wild Talk’s avry jxn
"When I think about it from a Southern, Afro-ecological standpoint, and the idea that all life has value inherently, and has to be treated like such, I see horses as a medicine."
SFPC Blog: Computational Exploration of Magical and Divinatory Language
When we are fucking with linguistic conventions as a way to open up magic space, how can we pay homage to the folks who have long been persecuted and oppressed for fucking with language first?
Omnipresence: How Surveillance Strategies Affect the Wellbeing of Black Communities
What would happen if we imagined, for even one moment, that the ability of a Black person to get a full night’s rest could be the most important thing, the key to any analysis of urban surveillance?
Ebony G. Patterson: ...to dig between the cuts, beneath the leaves, below the soil?
In an exhibit now at Hales Gallery, artist Ebony G. Patterson explores the legacy of the garden as it echoes throughout the postcolony.
this is a poem birthed from the predictive
i was born on the first floor of a widespread slave revolt in the year twenty hundred and four. my mama held me while she ran, because leaving was a morning thing.
"i can offer you only my folded palms"
"I am curling over so maybe it's time to leave. To wander through the hallways that hold my crooked spine tight as they wrap me in bones of lemon and floorshine..."
Poetry by Amber Officer-Narvasa
one day i looked down
and saw that
i couldn’t give
they already took that word
from the mouths of all my mothers
Hold Your Breath: Blackness, Worldmaking, and the Racial Ontology of Lungs
What I am trying to say is that Black peoples’ lungs are never just lungs. What I’m trying to say is that our lungs are burdened with the weight of the world.
Unburdening the Object
Baby is a Cool Machine, a solo exhibition of new works by Aria Dean, which opened on October 19 at American Medium, drew upon questions of objecthood and burden as a way to explore the perilous weight of Black life.
Mini-Syllabus: Memes and Blackness
Memes have become a way of marking mundane everyday moments, groundbreaking political changes, and everything in between. But beyond their immediate comic nature, memes have a complex relationship with the Black culture and bodies that they so often...