i led a writing workshop last weekend inspired by women writers of color, Gloria Anzaldúa in particular, and thinking about all of the ways in which women create magic from the ordinary. but i cannot find a small moment of exhale for myself, a crack in the surface to begin creating. maybe someday soon... until then, i'm breathing in inspiration:
Nas feat. Hit Boy/Shaka Senghor - Composure
Formula 734 feat. Buff 1/Rod Wallace - Billfolds
Athletic Mic League - Hold My Hand
Enny feat. Jorja Smith - Peng Black Girls Remix
the irony of this workshop was something I had to name: I too struggle, I am no expert at this, we are co-creating this space together. we came up with a list of strategies for finding space for writing, but even as I led the workshop, the baby squealed from the other room, the kids came to visit/interrupt and I struggled with the time and space to truly focus.
still, the dedication of 20 minutes to alliteration, rhyme and rhythm makes the difference, and I need to put it into practice. making dirty the pages of the journals that are too pretty to write in, just a few lines of a blog post is better than nothing at all. i know that I exist somewhere, under motherhood, beneath teaching and grant-writing and all that I do. i am not my production, and I am valuable even and because i choose to rest and enjoy life.
how many times do i have to say this out loud before i believe it?
