medase

There are a lot of things in this world to be grateful for.

[medase]

Reading through my old posts is weird. I’ve changed a lot. Grown a lot. I won't delete or edit anything though, out of principle (I’m very sentimental).  I’m not different per se, just at a different stage of my journey. I wanted to say ‘just at a further point on my journey’ and that is what I initially typed, but that would imply that all of this is somehow linear. It’s not. It’s undulating, and intersecting, and a map with red string dangling from pins at every point, intertwined and hard for the finger to follow - untraceable but safe in that there is some sort of direction, if you can find it. I understand some things better (myself included) and other things have never been as puzzling as they are now (myself included). I can still recognize the sound of my voice, it’s just saying different things. All I know is, I hope that I feel this way looking back the year after this, and the next and the next and the next and the next...

I think that this might be goodbye to tumblr.

[medase]

To my future son (Poem)

To my future son:

First, I will teach you how to swim. You will need it. I know that the current of the world may one day be stronger than your mother’s love

                     but that’s the thing about waves, the water has perfected the art of letting go

so I will wait for the tide to return what’s lost, catch him in the net that is my arms and remind him of the

                                              young boy he once was before strangers taught him what it meant to be a 

                                              man.

                            And all the while I will hope:

hope that his heart was not lost at sea, drowning me and all who lived there, with it

                           hope that his truths are not blocked by the sand in his mouth, forcing his pain into grit

hope that his spine did not turn to the rocks they were pushed up against, robbing him of the ability to lean on another

          I will be your lighthouse, brightest in the darkest moments

First, I will teach you how to swim,

                                        Tread lightly, and when you re-gain the strength

 you confused for weakness,      

                                              think of me and glide

[medase]

I was thinking about hypermasculinity, especially in the context of black/Ghanaian/African men. It’s so weird you know, everything about gender and how it asserts&manifests itself is so..weird, and hard, and I’ve been seeing this more and more.

 I’ve been writing poetry a lot lately, like a lot a lot, but mostly just keep it in a google doc folder/ on a secret tumblr page. This week, I read something out loud for the first time at an open mic and it was on churches&my mother. Kinda weird sharing stuff with other people but it also made it more real, in an uncomfortable but helpful way - a good discomfort, like growth. On Friday, I have my first ‘official’ sort of performance thingy: a joint piece on authenticity with someone I care about dearly. It’s still more so for just me, and I think I’ll keep it that way for the most part . As I keep at it, it’s helped me make sense of a lot of things, also is more fun & less strict than prose (and I’m not too great with grammar/ writing conventions/ keeping one train of thought so that’s great)- something English in high school did’t quite show me. So I thought I’d share this seeing as I haven’t been on here in a long time.

[medase]

To my future son (Poem)

To my future son:

First, I will teach you how to swim. You will need it. I know that the current of the world may one day be stronger than your mother’s love

                     but that’s the thing about waves, the water has perfected the art of letting go

so I will wait for the tide to return what’s lost, catch him in the net that is my arms and remind him of the

                                              young child he once was before strangers taught him what it meant to be a 

                                              man.

                                                                        And all the while I will hope:

hope that his heart was not lost at sea, drowning me and all who lived there, with it

                           hope that his truths are not blocked by the sand in his mouth, forcing his pain into grit

hope that his spine did not turn to the rocks it pushed up against, robbing him of the ability to lean on another

                                  I will be your lighthouse, brightest in the darkest moments

First, I will teach you how to swim,

                                        Tread lightly, and when you re-gain the strength

 you confused for weakness,      

                                              think of me and g l i d e

[wgss72spr16]

Ladies Let's Get Into Formation

Last week musician Beyonce put the internet on fire by dropping a music video for her new single ‘Formation’. With black pride lines such as ‘I like my baby hair with baby hair and afros, I like my negro nose with Jackson 5 nostrils’ and ‘I got hot sauce in my bag,swag’ Beyonce subtly makes political statements on black beauty and culture. For example, hair is a very political black feature especially given that the media would often comment on her daughter’s hair by referring to it as ‘uncombed’ and ‘nappy’ (very racialized terms). Similarly, her ‘negro nose’ is also a prominent black feature that was historically used to differentiate black people from white people and seen as ugly. As for the hot sauce, paying homage to symbols that would be referred to derogatorily as ‘ghetto’ signifies Beyonce reclaiming aspects of black culture and forgoing respectability politics. Furthermore, the depiction of the black clergy and a painting of an Asantehene (the king of the Asante Kingdom in modern-day Ghana) evoked the power of black spirituality and strength. Finally, the striking symbolism of Southern culture, given its especially racially turbulent history, made the statements of black pride and the black American experience even more impactful.

 However, Beyonce’s resistance was more than just skin deep. With scenes of a young black boy dancing in front of police officers only for them to ironically put their hands up and surrender speaks to how young black boys are often stripped of their innocence and childhood (a sentiment that is proven by how victims of police brutality are often described to as ‘beasts’ or ‘men’ when they’re usually not even out of college- as we saw in the testimony of Darren Wilson that we saw in class). She alluded to police brutality and state violence against black bodies again when at the end of the music video, in a setting reminiscent of New Orleans circa Hurricane Kartina, she is seen sinking on top of a police car. Hurricane Katrina itself is significant as it disproportionately affected lower class and black people in New Orleans, yet did not receive as much state aid as it should have. For example, this famously prompted Kanye West to proclaim that George Bush hated black people.

 Yet this song in particular is for black women, calling us to be unapologetic for our magic, get in formation and band together in solidarity against various systems and vessels of oppression e.g racism, sexism, homophobia and the government. She also practiced what she was preaching by collaborating with Big Freedia, a black self-identified gay male who often dresses like a woman and speaks out on our obsession with a gender binary.  In the words of Big Freedia, they ‘came to slay!’.

 All in all, Beyoncé uses her words, symbols and images and her influence due to fame to make an important statement about the resilience of black culture, black feminism and black queerness in the face of violence and prejudice. In relation to the text, this visually represents some aspects of the Crenshaw article, primarily the consequences that black women have to face due to the intersection of their race and gender.

Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LrCHz1gwzTo

 -Yaa Kankam-Nantwi

[medase]

[medase]

sorry (not sorry)

[medase]

Christi and Princess Yaa.

[medase]

formation.

[medase]

❤️

[medase]

Okay like I'm so sorry for real but these turned out great, I won't post for the next month love you all sorry ❤️

[medase]

Friends :)

[medase]

Cold but vain

[medase]

Looking for answers to questions you have yet to ask

It's as if I keep the things that resonate with me in the back of my mind, and from then on experience life in that context. That's why so much makes sense eventually. I start to understand things through that which confuses me. What seems like the universe creepily pointing me in much needed directions, is really just me being my own compass.

[medase]

When I write:

When my heart, the quiet tenant, makes its presence known, I pick up a pen. It knocks against my rib cage as if to alert my senses 'hey, give me the mic' and until my mouth has obliged, my mind cannot rest.I am looking for the answers to questions I have yet to ask.

Usually during those hours where it's neither morning nor night, or the sky is the burnt orange of my favourite sweater, is when this cup begins to overflow and the words pour out, breaking skin.

[hazelpalee-deactivated20200531]

[lukeisherenow-deactivated201609]

When u and ur drunk friend tryin to get to the bathroom at the party

[marissakerri-deactivated2023102]

😊😊😊

[medase]

Me 🙃

[sugxto]

[jessehimself]

My old man’s a white old man And my old mother’s black. If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mother And wished she were in hell, I’m sorry for that evil wish And now I wish her well My old man died in a fine big house. My ma died in a shack. I wonder where I’m going to die, Being neither white nor black?

Cross - Poem by Langston Hughes (via jessehimself)

Langston Hughes 💕