 |
| Artists and Performers of See. Speak. Feel. 2015 presented by Twenties Unscripted. |
I hope you know it very well: that feeling you get when something much greater than yourself has orchestrated an experience. Similar to the wind coaxing a dandelion to share its magic.
Similar to your spirit speaking from the pit of your stomach saying “Girl, this is what you were made for.” There are many names for this greater being. I usually call Him Lord, but today her name is Destiny.
Destiny is a demanding black mother: hands on her hips, indignation on her brow, mouth full of the final word: “Roconia, what you won’t do is tell me what you won’t do.”
You can count it how you want: 399 days, or 57 weeks, or one year, one month, and 6 days. However you choose to frame it, that is the amount of time that passed between the day I was introduced to the showcase and the day I introduced myself as a part of it.
February 1, 2014, my sister burst into my room demanding that I:
1. wake up
2. Check out this blog and
3. Sign up for this showcase
My sister and I have a way of believing in each other more than we do ourselves and though my initial response to all of her demands was all-the-way-to-hell naw, I sat up and heard her out. She was certain that Twenties Unscripted would be perfect for me and that I would be perfect for See. Speak. Feel: a night of performance and art. I said “maybe,” my sister said “definitely,” Destiny said “start the clock.”
As the clock ticked I got acquainted with Twenties Unscripted and blogs of the like (and by “acquainted” I mean I fell in blogger love, read almost every post, and followed my faves on Twitter).
By January 2015, God had done His thing, Destiny did hers, and I was registered to present prose in See. Speak Feel. 2015.
And there she was calling me again.
Destiny: Hey, girl! I noticed you put prose down on your registration form…
Me: Yep.
Destiny: Why not poetry?
Me: I don’t—
Destiny: Write the poem, Roconia.
The poem had been on my mind since last October. Bits of it pieced itself together in the notes section in my phone. Most of it still swam in my head. But I already had an idea of what I wanted to write for See. Speak. Feel. So, I denied Destiny a second time. And, in response, she sent a storm of hysteria.
Hysteria /həˈstirēə/ (n.) – 1the act of being two minutes away from emailing Tyece and backing out of See. Speak. Feel., destroying original piece 2 days prior. 2 writing the poem in frenzy and laughing uncontrollably about the greatness of self, the piece, See. Speak. Feel., and homemade chicken noodle soup.
I wish I could avoid clichés for the rest of this post. I wish I could resist saying that when I was up on that stage sharing myself, I finally felt that I was where I belonged. I wish I could avoid the phrase “I blossomed” when referring to that space. I definitely wish I could avoid admitting that I cried after I read my piece.
For months that poem was on my heart. And as many times as I put it on hold, it demanded to be written. And when it was all said and done, I went backstage and hoped Nneka and The Lyrical Jaz didn’t notice me crying in the dark. I shed tears in that way that only mothers do after they’ve labored for their firstborn. I cried for no reason and every reason. Because the labor was done, the poem was out, because the end of my first journey meant the beginning of belonging.
Destiny has been relaying this reoccurring theme with me: you don’t know until you try. You don’t know you have the gumption to sign up for a showcase until you try. You don’t know you can write and present poetry until you try. You don’t know how amazing people and experiences can be until you try.
There are no words for how humbled and astonished I am at the support I’ve received, from my friends, many blogger crushes, and family alike. I find it absurd to be applauded and gifted for doing what I was made to do. I’ve said this every day since and I’ll say it again, See. Speak. Feel. was everything and more. I sincerely congratulate, applaud, and thank Tyece for providing the platform for creatives to come together and do their thing. I can’t wait to grow with this showcase. I can’t wait to see what mama Destiny has lined up next.
If you missed out on See. Speak. Feel., below is the video of my piece, “A Letter From Racism in America.” Enjoy!
This recap was truly perfect. You put things together beautifully, and your piece that night was a prime example. So proud of you and looking forward to witnessing your growth.
xx
E.
Thank you, sis! Your constant support is everything! <3 :,)
You’re amazing 🙂
-Yetti
🙂