Reveling in my own company, Audre and James came to mind. curious what it must have been to sit with self in coffee shops and tucked away corners on other continents, conjuring words that have shaped movements.
A few scattered thoughts later, what if this work was all towards imagination justice? the phrase “imagination justice” is still echoing. it feels big, bigger than me.
We’re fighting for the conditions needed for the global majority’s imagination to be safe enough and fed enough and cherished enough to bloom and prosper and build new worlds. And what if it isn’t only through our grief and anger that we open portals to our ancestors? What if it is through joy and pleasure and softness? In my indulgence, had I opened a portal to the black queer ancestors who steadied this journey? Tapping into those unapologetically leading the charge toward the black queer imagination and the abundance it brings?
We’re fighting for the conditions needed for the global majority’s imagination to be safe enough and fed enough and cherished enough to bloom and prosper and build new worlds. And what if it isn’t only through our grief and anger that we open portals to our ancestors? What if it is through joy and pleasure and softness? In my indulgence, had I opened a portal to the black queer ancestors who steadied this journey? Tapping into those unapologetically leading the charge toward the black queer imagination and the abundance it brings?