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.
"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."
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?
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?
In an exhibit now at Hales Gallery, artist Ebony G. Patterson explores the legacy of the garden as it echoes throughout the postcolony.
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.
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...