Writing to be alive.
If you're reading this, thank you.
This blog is where I have come for the past year to express myself. I started it in the winter of 2019. I needed a place to record my thoughts, my ambitions, the things that were turning in my mind. I needed a place to be … me.
This blog is a place where I can reflect on my world, my artistic process, and the things that make me stop and think. For example-
I recently read an essay written by David Summers, a black man who had an encounter with the police. The meeting happened as he was walking in a neighborhood. He called it "taking a black walk through a white neighborhood." This experience is something that has happened to me. My details were different. However, the takeaway message is the same. "you don't fit here.", "You don't belong," Your existence makes you suspicious.
David Summers shared his experience. I am grateful he told his story. He described it as "the art to making white people feel safe." As I read his experience, it gave me a sense of solace to know that his experience was like mine. A few years ago, I was stopped about half a mile from my house, as I walked in my neighborhood. The police stopped me because a "neighbor" called. Just like Summers mentioned in his story, I was carrying something. Something that made me dangerous. The object I was carrying was a coffee mug. This experience made me question my presence in my neighborhood. That morning as I walked, a neighbor called the police on me. That same morning I walked past the school my daughter attended. We moved into this neighborhood so my daughter could attend that school. Yet, there was something about me, my presence, my gait as I walked, the expression on my face, the clothes I was wearing. Something prompted a "neighbor" to call the police on me.
Reading his story made me feel less alone. Hearing him discuss the monologue he has with himself about trying to appear safe and friendly was familiar. I've had those same thoughts and feelings. A knowing smile came across my face as I read it. His words rang true to me. They validated my experience. I'm glad someone else was able to say it so well.
Saying it well is what I've tried to do here in this blog over this past year. Sometimes it's about my artistic approach, or it's a piece of art I've enjoyed, or a funny thing that happened when I was clowning, sometimes it's memories of a lost loved one. Other times it's about the racial intersections in which we live.
My first post in the winter of 2019 was about a group of artists/clowns working on diversity issues. The conversation about diversity continues. A few days ago, I was talking to some of those same people about the same question. The discussion lives on. There are LGBTQ folks in the circus world too. The diversity talk includes them as well. As for now, I will keep blogging here.
I do this because I want a place where I fit in, where I belong, and where my existence is valued. Our best work happens when we bring all of ourselves to our practice, the things that make us vulnerable and unique can point us in the direction of our strength.
Thanks again for reading.
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