A Promise
Azeezat Johnson

I promise to not quit on myself.

To remember that I’m Azeezat Johnson, and I’ve come so far, done so much.

I give so much heart and soul in all I do.

I promise to care for my body, my body that holds me and continues to try and care for me.

I will not be reduced to the context of my fears and pains. I will remind myself that even on the darkest and saddest of days, there is comfort to be found.

I promise to always look for what can ease things for me. Which can mean some quiet time, but will also mean time with those I love.

I promise to focus on things that provide nourishment and joy for myself, including writing and mentoring, cos that gives me hope for all that’s to come.

And I know I will continue fighting for all the weird and wonderful that is still to come.

This is who I am. I embrace this with all my soul.

We Turn Home – Oluwatosin (Wasi) Daniju

It is this.
Sitting here
and your heart is in my heart is in her heart
for whole moments at a time.
Her grief reaches inside
leaves your eyes shining
reflecting our feeling.
Betrayal you’ve suffered becomes
communal rage, kindled from our kinship.

And our joy also is shared breath
bubbling over again and again
uncontrollable,
mirth rebirthed by eyes caught
bellies full on more than all we’ve just consumed.

And in this way we cycle through
bring all to the table, lay it down to be tended
by hands made tender by bonds transcending blood
Safe to unfurl and lay hurt bare
knowing the holding will not bruise further
will help healing simply by not expecting it
Allowing anger and grief their necessary space
welcoming each emotion as it comes.
No need for any held in check
to ease or appease
simply allowed to exist as is.

And as cliché it is
it felt like no longer waiting to exhale
collective sighs, built up to gales
only explosive from how long they’ve been held in
Pent up to escape as plosives, expletives…and again back to laughter.

And this is it
All we need
Not a cure. No seawall strong enough
to stop the constant tide
of encroachment from so many sides.
But hours of a moment where the waves recede
and we can walk on dry land
take a little time out of constant wading
skip lighter, treading joyful.
Unshackled. Unfettered. Free.

[after meeting up with H&A 25/3/18, East London]

Starry nights – the evolution of our tent (excerpts)
Azeezat Johnson

We were tired of waiting for justice or care, tired of having to face interconnected brutalities alone. For me – and I think for all of us – GEM was about creating a home where we could speak from our bodies, and tend to the wounds that we are told to forget/minimise. We started by trying to pitch our own tent, build our own home that we could take comfort in and be protected within (at least a little).

…

So then Wasi asked: what if we let go of the tent, to make sure that no one has to hold up more than they can bear? At first, this idea terrified me: it requires us to believe in the possibility of us resting within our wider world. … It felt (and feels) near impossible to imagine comfort and ease outside in the open, with no walls to try and shield us from the brutalities that we’ve had to face for too long.

But as we began learning how to speak and feel into our embodied truths, another way of being started to seem possible. What happens when we let go of the comfort found in structures that have already been tried and failed? Instead of building more borders, what would it mean to create conditions for all of us (within and beyond the collective) to be able to rest out in the open, underneath the stars? How might we tend to ourselves and each other in the midst of all this horror?

…

Black Presence: A Gathering of Words
by Black GEMS
Azeezat Johnson, Francesca Sobande, Katucha Bento

Abundancy
Making time,
taking our space

Dreaming –
being in dialogue with our dreams while awake.

Refusing demands of care labour: choosing to tend and care
with one another
We deserve this, time to dwell,
to just be.

What else do we want to dream of beyond what we have now?

What it means to stay
with gentleness.

Thinking beyond time as something “out there”.
Time as an orisha, time as rhythms.
Making time for us to be (in our own beautiful experiments).
Dialogical, relational, and how when we gather as Black
people,
we gather
all these different possibilities
to see/be with the world.

What it means “to sit with each other’s writing in
progress”.
Where do you have Space to Dream?

The gathering work is meant to create space for us to feel
brave as well,
because we can feel rooted in ourselves and
feel connected through that…

New tunes,
new notes,
new rhythms.

Different rhythms aren’t legible to everyone
and there are reasons for that.
Embracing unknowability.

What else do you get to dream of beyond the words that you
have to use in this world?
What else do we want to dream of beyond what we have now?

Revolutions and the sun.

“revolutions are just evolutions happening again and again” –
Oluwatosin (Wasi) Daniju

Stretching the possibilities of meaning,
Black people’s different cosmo visions.

Thinking beyond time as something “out there” (again).
Repeating and remixing,
returning to our words and worlds,
creating more space
for us to breathe through

Commitment to care and gentleness,
recognising the knottedness,
the messiness of our connections
across different contexts.

Thinking about playing across these categories
that were designed to constrain
and constrict our bodies.

What it means to be very care-full in our careless
institutions
that were not designed to home our bodies.
We deserve to be careless with those registers.

Thinking about what is in the gathering,
releasing
into the atmosphere.

What it means to move away from possessing,
to think about releasing,
and then
connecting it to dreaming.

This is the space of playing,
of playing with words,
playing with our worlds.

Playing with the way we’re breathing through it,
Releasing.

Space to think and dream
without needing to know where your dreams are going.

Playing with the way that we breathe through these moments
and release our breath.

Returning to who we want to be.