rj visited me in my 'special booth' in the liesbrary. its not mine i guess but when i got here it was occupied and i didn't know what to do with myself. i wandered around the 3rd floor aimlessly, like a fucking little doe- 'yer not my mama' at every vacant study space.
but score! i'm here and ima pillage this essay and all its essay cousins.
i'm listening this song 'replay'... on replay. (veeeery creative jes).
last night i went to the trent film society screening of dakan. i cried during the love scene. it's this incredible film about this boy in guinea that loves this other boy. classic homo story told in a very beautiful and unique way. amazing shots- minimalist lighting.
and manga tries, through religious ceremony and for the love of his mother, tries to move beyond his feelings for sori, and falls in love with a woman. but when they start to make love, his mind goes to sori. and not just imaging oumou was sori, but going to moments the two men had together, kissing, falling down laughing. and my heart broke a little bit as i thought about the times i've had sex and been thinking about d; desiring a companion i wasn't in bed with, and the weight of the guilt of not being 'there' for the other person.
and then manga visits sori at the end and sori asks if manga would like to meet his son (new baby with new wife). and manga plays with the child with this piercing laughter and enthusiasm that made me overwhelmingly sad and happy at the same time. imagining holding d's baby, the baby of someone who you hold so much love for, in a being they created. but the wave of knowing this baby is a piece of the life you didn't have with someone you loved so strongly.
and rj and i are laughing in this booth and talking about criticisms we have of this queer community. masculinities privileged, whiteness prevailing. feedback unwelcome. stepping back from organizing has been a blessing. looking for new teachers, mentors, places to learn. i have been a teacher too, but the best leaders never stop making students out of themselves. this, i have learned.
rj is one of my teachers. so is nate. so is my father. my father who visited and told me he didn't see colour at the dub fest after telling me he didnt realize it was a black type of poetry. i was like 'of course you saw colour, dad. and its a good thing. peterborough doesn't often have artistic spaces wherein racialized people make up the majority of performers and attendees.'
people like my dad will get their back up and fight if you ask them to. 'asking them to' is disrespecting their voice. privileged or not, if you want someone to listen to what you have to say, you have speak with love. and sure, i'm no fool. i know that if we went around telling the ignorant we loved them, we'd open ourselves up to attack and abuse. but, discernment is key. and not just seizing opportunities but making them. and not just making them in the moment, but laying down the ground work.
and now, back to this essay...