Instead of working on my final projects which include a odd fable called The Fable of the Dragon-Tyrant that I have to somehow present some kind of lesson for in my Personality Theories class on Wednesday, I’ve spent the last 6 hours researching authors like Alice Munro, Alice Walker and my old journalism professor Dr. McKeen. I once sent an anonymous candy gram to him which professed my love for the way he read passages aloud in his History of Journalism class- wonder if he ever found out it was me…
I have a heaviness on my heart as I read their biographies, rich with titles and accomplishments, awards and various letters behind their names. I want some of that too.
Yeah, I know I’m only 29 and they’re all like…50 or 60 something but still…I wish I could be like them. No, I don’t want to imitate them, I just need to find a way to allow the brilliance in me to shine like they have.
I’m conflicted. It’s a fight deep inside me that rips me apart. I have the role of a mother to play, while at the same time yearning for the freedom and irresponsibility to society that the typical artist enjoys. I want to be ME, yet I want to be a good Mom too. Are both roles mutually exclusive?
I don’t know man…I know I look like this young Black chick from the hood with no “couth” and no one to stand beside me or guide me but in my heart I know I’m a writer, a brilliant creative writer with so much to say and a BIG LOUD voice that isn’t bound by one particular medium of expression.
I can do it all..write, act, speak, teach, encourage, listen, yet I am so impatient while I envision the day when I can sit on the back porch sipping on an orange soda, black n mild in hand feeling the breeze and just…let the genius out.
I want to write about Black women. I want to write about the search for identity. I want to write about the hunger for love masked by a deep desperation for self acceptance. I want to do research and publish findings. I want to create curriculum to be taught in schools that will change lives. I want to publish poetry, do spoken word albums, host a show, produce and write plays, act in movies, be an activist, change minds.
I want so much…So much for one little body to bear…maybe even in one lifetime.
While all of these hopes and goals leap into my mind consistently, causing me so much unrest because I KNOW I can be great at all of them, I’m still chugging away creating a foundation for myself and my literary hopes. I’m not just trying to entertain man. I don’t want my body of work to be easily dismissed once I am gone. I’m not using my gift to make your brain rot away. I want you to take me with you wherever you go. I want you to remember my words and shift your thinking. I want to leave you with a gift that follows you beyond the grave.
No making fancy t-shirts or hats, toys or teaching you how to keep up with the latest trends..naw man. I’m trying to give you the gas to get to where you want to be-spiritually and mentally.
The gift I’m giving is wisdom and encouragement and you can’t sell that on ebay.