The Queer Black Liberation Project
30 Minute read
In February 2023 I travelled to Brazil to do an artist residency and develop a personal project on "Queer black Liberation" and what those words mean to me. I had an amazing time and felt truly transformed on my return and since then I've been integrating some of my learnings, reclaiming my time and my body and allowing myself to play and create and dream. I am realizing that worth is not determined by the things I produce and because of this I have activated a new sense of purpose. I'm not entirely sure what that is yet but I'm figuring it out. It is difficult to navigate while still living in it but I've been imagining and day dreaming about a world beyond the brutalities of capitalism and I realize that liberation is not a ticked box but rather a process and lifelong commitment. The months that have followed this trip have proved that I will forever have to keep fighting and working to find my way back to myself but this document serves as a reminder that I am capable of doing so.
São Paulo
The first stop was Sao Paulo. Admittedly I travelled with preconceptions and I was pretty nervous about my safety here. I was staying with a friend who was from the area. I felt comfortable with them but for the first few days whenever I was solo, I ran instead of walking, preferring to suss out the environment while moving at a fast pace and with my athletic armour in case anyone tried to mug me. The first photo I took was a of Monumento as Bandeiras. Up until this moment I had refrained from taking my phone out of my pocket and even though I wasn’t entirely sure I could trust them either, I only took the photo because there was security guards nearby.
After the first day of running on high alert, I relaxed a bit. The streets weren't as scary as I had been led to believe. My Portuguese was terrible but I realised you can get away with very few words when you are confident in the delivery. People in general were very friendly and I loved seeing the interactions between the Brazilians. They seemingly just started casual conversations with each other like they were friends all the time and I never saw this sort of rapport normalised anywhere else in the world. I got such a kick out of saying “Bom Dia” to folk on the street and the days I spent walking around taking in the wonderful street art and just existing as a foreigner incognito satisfied a feeling I have been curious about my whole life - what it feels like to blend in. I noticed the absence of “The nod”, that subtle moment of eye contact that is often exchanged between black people and people of colour that acknowledges “I see you, you're not alone”. That made sense because the city was full of people of all shades and for the first time ever, I didn’t feel like a minority.
Despite the diversity, there is still plenty of racism in Brazil, it’s just a different brand to the one I know. This was first indicated by the gentrified neighbourhood I was staying in where it was explained to me, more often than not that the white people were the ones who owned the property and the black people were the ones who did a lot of the domestic labour and lower earning jobs. As my journey continued I’d learn more about this discrepancy but I wasn’t going to let that get in the way of my enjoying this brief taste of assimilation.
And then I went on Tinder and my ego took a slight hit when I failed to match with any locals. For three days I swiped but the beautiful Brazilian women weren’t picking up what I was throwing down. I wondered if this otherness, this exoticism I had experienced my whole life and was so eager to escape was something that simultaneously made me feel attractive to others after all. This wasn’t the first time I would notice this and it was an interesting social experiment that honestly felt quite disorientating. I didn’t feel unique anymore and essentially felt uninteresting as a consequence. Had I deep down enjoyed the fact that I stood out most of the time? I sat with his feeling and it re-enforced the idea that I had to find and tap into my own confidence because validation of my worth is not something I can expect gain externally.
Sao Paulo was a short stop on my way to Minas Gerais to take part in an art residency. The highlights were spending time with my friends, drinking fresh coconuts and eating acai at Ibirapuera park, checking out the Afro Brazil museum and seeing a band perform in preparation for carnival. It turns out in real life with alcohol and enigmatic music involved, Brazilians are not withholding their flirtiness, quite the opposite actually and in the end I left Sao Paulo with my ego still firmly intact and ready for my next adventure.
Arriving at Terra Una
Somehow, I didn’t let my lack of Portuguese get in the way of me travelling to “Terra Una” to take part in an “Art and Magic” residency. In fact, I didn’t really think about it all until I was trying to communicate with my very patient travel mates through google translate. While I had been using duo lingo for the months leading up to the trip, I realised I barely knew how to say a full sentence. And as I took the bus out of Sao Paulo into the unknown and began losing phone reception and internet, I realised my efforts to master the basics were a bit too little too late.
After the bus ride, I met with three others and we took a two hour taxi ride on windy, bumpy roads to Terra Una, an eco village situated in Minas Gerais in the municipality of Liberdade. Even though I didn’t speak the language, even though I didn’t know these people, I felt immediately safe. A warm breeze blew through the window as I drifted in and out of sleep, comforted by the friendly tones of the conversations in the background. We stopped to take in the view of the gorgeous fields and meadows before the sun set. The last leg of the journey wasn’t so smooth. Despite our lovely taxi driver's best efforts, the car we travelled in couldn’t make it up the potholed road and in the end we were forced to evacuate and walk up the rest of the hill, luggage in tow. By this stage it was dark and raining and I had huge regrets about the amount of clothing I had packed but between me and my new friends who kindly helped carry my excess baggage, we made it up the hill to our home for the next 10days.
We were greeted by the other participants of the residency. I was the only non-Brazilian and I tried to take in so many new faces all at once. I was surprised by the lack of melanin in the group but this was a familiar observation. Everyone seemed welcoming and when we joined hands in a circle to give thanks before our meal, I recognized the melody of a song I remembered from the rainbow gathering I had gone to in Portugal a few years ago. “This is family, this is unity, this is celebration, this is sacred.” I knew that I was about to embark on a weird and wonderful spiritual journey and that everything was going to be okay.
The meal that was presented to us upon arrival was delicious, as was all the food I ate during my stay there; homemade breads and soups, rice and beans and salads and cheese, lots of cheese. Fresh cheese for breakfast, tapioca filled with cheese, pao de quijo, qunhook com goibada and dulce du leche which is cheese with guava and caramel the afternoon. I was open to trying everything and was never disappointed. The food was prepared by a couple of the residents and volunteers and afterwards we would take turns cleaning. up as a collective in what was referred to as ‘Harmonia’.
The accommodation I stayed in was quaint but sufficient. For the first few days I shared a house with two other girls, 10 minutes from the main house . Their English was a lot better than my Portuguese but there were definitely a few things lost in translation. At night we smoked together and talked and laughed and when we didn’t know what the other people were saying, it somehow didn’t matter.
The next day, in the distance, I heard the sound of a “concha", a shell that made a loud noise when blown into signaling the start of a new day. We all met for some movement mediation at 7am before gathering for breakfast and a tour of the eco villa. Although I had some help with language translation throughout various activities, I soon learned that I would need to find other ways to communicate. In the evenings after our 6pm silent mediation we had a sharing circle where we would all sit together and offer our thoughts, feelings ,frustrations and epiphanies regarding the process we were creating for ourselves. I spoke once or twice but I mainly listened. The first time I spoke about my project and intentions, I began to tear up. As best I could I tried to explain that I had been on racial healing journey and that my internal world had turned upside down. It was feeling necessary to express everything I had learned about myself and the world around me through my visual art but the ideas got so big and so complex and I didn't know where to start. I used to paint nature and observations around me but now that work seemed unimportant when really I wanted to talk about racism and sexism and inequality and gender binaries and queerness, heteronormativity and patriarchy and capitalism and how the systems are against us and ugh, how everything just felt so complicated. I’m not sure how much of this I actually got out but after I spoke, I worried I didn’t say enough or express myself as fully as I could but I breathed into this feeling and soon let it go. Sharing felt like a relief and I found that afterwards, the people who resonated with what I said came to the surface and would help me along my journey. I was happy I opened up.
Other times I would listen to conversations in Portuguese and either make up my own interpretations of what they were saying or just zone out and enjoy not feeling pressured to contribute to the conversations. I had so many moments of wordless connection with people throughout the residency. There was something really special about sharing space with others when I didn’t understand their words. I learned to read emotions and body language, to get comfortable with sitting there and feeling together. I quickly surrendered the need to understand everything and had to trust that I wasn’t missing out but rather receiving what I needed to receive at any given moment.
Ceremony of the Phoenix
There are so many ways we can take this world. That was the first journal entry I wrote the morning after I arrived. I don't even remember what I meant by that but I was noting down all my thoughts which seemed really profound at the time. I was feeling safe and alive and awake and I got very comfortable with my new friends very quickly. I got comfortable with compost toilets and not wearing shoes and sharing meals and conversations and participating in all the workshops and mediations I could. I even got used to the mosquitos. I loved being in nature. I loved that it wasn’t fancy, that there was no pressure to be a certain way.
But when it came to beginning my art project, this exploration of Queer Black Liberation, I just felt frustrated. I wasn’t sure what I was doing so I set up a room away from everybody else, laid out my materials and procrastinated until it was time for a group activity. I did some drawings of my body so I would have something to fill the walls. When someone asked about my project I would feel stressed about not having the answers. Thinking about these three labels I was struggling to wear and how they intersect WOMAN, QUEER, BLACK, I tried to come up with an idea for a project but the ideas just got bigger and bigger and more complex and blurry. It seemed like a juggling game so that's what I did in the end. I picked up the juggling balls I had packed and started recording myself learning to juggle, a distraction project, while I thought about the real art I could make.
Before I left for this trip, I asked for some help. I made a video and posted it on Instagram appealing for assistance in guiding me on this trip. I was completely blown away by the response and I feel like I still don’t have enough words to express my gratitude towards the people who supported me in this endeavor whether it was by donating money, buying art or simply offering words of encouragement. It bolstered my belief in the power of community, gave me hope for the future and also just showed me that asking for help and asking for what you need can be a powerful and liberating move. I felt like I was ready to take my tools and my knowledge and my newly found confidence and mix them together to create masterpieces and the help I received was literal fuel to launch my Black Queer Liberation rocket ship into space!
But now that I had answered the call and listened and arrived at my destination, I expected the masterpieces to just unfold. I had worked so hard and I was so conditioned to produce work to prove my worth that I didn’t even recognize these expectations I was pushing onto myself were restricting me from finding this “liberation” I was searching for.
I was always relieved when there was an organised activity to do so I didn’t have to try and think about my project. On Sunday I participated in a “Ceremony of the Phoenix”. We had a fire and built an altar with various offerings to mother earth and father sky and danced around the fire singing, playing music, celebrating and manifesting our inner transformations. Like most of the singing we did, I didn’t understand the words that were being sung but I got into it, moving, shaking, feeling the music, loosening up.
After some time, when the sun had set, I took a break and sat back from the circle. As I watched everybody's vibrating silhouettes I thought about how funny it was to have come this far, to have travelled to a random eco village in a country I had never been to find belonging but I was still different from everyone else. True belonging comes from within and of course I knew this. But I didn’t feel it, I think until I accepted I am never going to fully fit in anywhere, nobody is. There is always going to be something that sets us all apart from others. I cherished that moment and I felt at peace noticing how being on the outside, “not belonging” as such was a default that somehow felt comforting and safe.
Breaking/rising point
I was high most of the time I was in Brazil. Sure, there was some plant medicine involved but more often than not, I just felt elated by everything I was experiencing. In the mornings, I’d enjoy the walk down the red earth and through the trees to the main house. I’d take in the fresh morning smells and remove my shoes so I could feel the dewy grass and let my toes sink into the fresh mud. I’d stop to talk to the ladybugs that hung out on the lush leaves and skip through the forest listening to the birds singing to each other and every now and then I would hum to myself or throw my hands up in the air and give thanks to the Sun.
Sometimes I crouched down to watch the ants. I was reminded of this concept of ants as representatives of cooperative work; of how tiny ants can be a demonstration of collective sustainability, just as us humans could aspire to be. Ant societies function successfully by carrying out individual duties and the 7ft ant houses I passed every morning were proof of this. I loved watching them carry bits of food on their miniscule backs, scurrying to get to their next destination. They were ambitious, determined and inspirational and I was more than happy to give them a few minutes of gratitude everyday.
Throughout my time in Brazil, I had been hearing more and more about the Orishas that play a key role in the Yoruba religion of West Africa and several Afro-Brazialian religions too including Candomble and Umbanda. According to these teachings, the Orishas are spirits that have been sent by the supreme creator to teach humanity how to be successful on earth. I was feeling particularly drawn to both Yemanya, the Goddess of the Ocean and her sister Oshun, the Goddess of the River. I loved learning about Oshuns qualities, she is typically associated with water, purity, divinity, femininity, beauty and love. She is considered one of the most powerful of all Orishas and her seductive powers inspire sexual love and promote fertility. I had heard of these Orishas before but this trip brought me one step closer to learning more and more about these symbols of protection and spiritual balance and everytime I stepped into the waters, I felt like they were with us. I thought a lot about religion and faith and what it means to me, beyond the options my catholic upbringing presented. It’s something I never really made space for before.
There were various workshops and offerings throughout the week. Kenya @atelierdaloba_ shared her amazing earth paints with us made using various pigments from soil. It was a lot of fun seeing how they were made and painting the walls, painting ourselves, painting each other, playing, experimenting, literally connecting with the earth. It was a great exercise in loosening up my painting technique. The rigidity of photorealistic oil painting can be limiting and I was reminded of the importance of play and experimenting, something that is still surprising difficult for me to step into. After breakfast I would play on the swing in the garden. At night we would watch fireflies sparkle and it was magic. For the first couple of days I stripped down to my bikini bottoms for bathing in the waterfall, not quite confident enough to go fully nude but I would get there. The ease at which nudity was normalised was freeing. Accepting each other without clothes just the way we entered the world felt natural and beautiful and just simple. Plus, the weather was really hot! When appropriate, I was enjoying communicating with people through touch and physical affection that didn’t need to be sexual. I felt safe and alive playing among all these spiritual beings and expressing myself this way. I was beginning to connect with nature again, starting to access that inner power I knew was there and I vowed to never lose sight of the importance of this.
And yet, I was still failing to see what any of this had to do with me doing an art project on queer black liberation. So at some point in the day I would make myself sit down and try to make things make sense and get annoyed because I couldn’t figure out where to start, what direction to take. I felt this responsibility to create and organise and put my “trauma” to good use. When I felt myself slipping into that place of unsureness and chaos, the place that felt bad, I would pick up the balls and practice my juggling.
I was trying not to give power to this part of me that was frustrated but it all came to a head half way through the residency and something shifted inside me. Perhaps it took a moment to recognise this shift. As the group sat together trying to lay out our ideas for our projects, tears ran down my face. I didn’t know what to do. My ideas were too big, but they felt stuck in a bottle neck. As prompted by one of the facilitators, I listed my intentions; To free myself through my art, to put into visual form what liberation looks like, to find a flow, to find a solution for release, to connect my work with my feelings. Looking back on my tear stained notes from that day now, everything looks a little clearer.
I was uncomfortable sharing my art process until I had something solid to show people but once I shared out loud that I had no clue what I was doing with the project, I found others in the same situation. I confided in one of the mentors about my disconnect with my oil painting and how I was feeling stuck and misaligned. It felt good to discuss everything with her and it was very validating to be listened to. She advised me to free myself, as if it was that east; to relax, trust the process and allow myself pleasure. Relaxing felt like a risk, like a waste of my time at the residency when I could have been making work. I thought I was already allowing myself pleasure but I hadn’t quite tuned into the fact that I could choose joy in every aspect of my life. I was sceptical but figured what harm it could do trying out her advice. That afternoon I got naked under the sun and felt every sensation on my skin. Later that night I put a mirror between my legs and painted what I saw.
The next day I approached another one of the mentors and I tried explaining the conflicts that were happening in my brain and my heart. She gave me some exercises and practices to help clear the fog and find my path; to call on my ancestors to remind me that I am loved and that I don’t need to prove this by producing work, to write dialogue between the conflicting sides of me, to notice my discomfort and dig deep and ask myself why I’m feeling certain things. I literally wrote down the internal dialogue between my conflicting sides. It seemed a little ridiculous but almost instantly, some of the pressure eased.
I was fighting with myself and I didn’t think I could win. I was feeling bullied by the old version of me who accepted the world as it is, who was conditioned to prove her worth by producing work. She was hard on herself and didn't know how to stop moving. She feared that if she stopped moving, she would be a failure. Instead of blaming her, I met her with the self compassion she lacked. She was once a child who not only worked through her emotions by making but also fought for her place showing off what she could do. And she could do a lot. She got used to this cycle, this comfort of external validation. She forgot that she doesn't need to do anything or prove anything to be loved. I have never been much of fighter but I knew now it was time to step into the ring and have a conversation with myself. I told myself to stop trying to live up to other people's expectations or imagined expectations because there are too many people to please-too many ways others will feel let down. The people who bought art from me, who believe in me are not expecting anything in return. I concluded that I didn’t owe the world anything and the moment I felt this, the moment I allowed myself to believe it, something changed and so many beautiful things began to happen.
Finding my multi-disciplinary artist
In the days that followed my rejection of this need to produce finished pieces and my vow to play more, something shifted inside me. A lot of time was spent lounging by the various waterfalls. I stopped watching the clock and trying to make iconic art and instead spent time chasing colourful butterflies. I lay in the sun with my beautiful friends drawing and painting with no particular goal in mind. I participated in some laughing yoga and took part in a cacao cermony, both offered by Ingrid @ingrid_crespo_ . The yoga was hilarious, silly and freeing and the cacao ceremony was a beautiful experience getting into that heart opening space and awakening our divine feminine energies.
Some friends helped me re-create an old photograph of my grandmother taking a picnic with some friends during WW2. I did some macrame, and played with various art materials, some of them just taken from nature and played for the sake of playing.
I came across this quote by Albert Camus which formed the basis for my project and well, I would say for my existence going forward:
“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”
I was having such a good time; quality conversations and positive energy. These people I was spending time with did not care about productivity and material things. It felt like everybody abandoned the need to figure everything out and this collective power felt freeing. I witnessed and participated in some performance art, a lot of it involving body paint and dancing and just immersed myself in making the most of my time here, using my body intuitively and listening to my soul.
On my journey of self discovery over the years. I’ve gotten pretty accustomed to “coming out”; first as bisexual before that word seemed too limiting and I connected more with the term queer, then as non-monogamous which I didn’t feel the need to make public but I guess I’m doing that now, and then as black when I started to rescue and connect with this part of my identity. Each time I accepted another part of myself and vowed to stay on my own path, it was a struggle to get there but when I did arrive it brought me to a place of freedom and expansion.
I never even realised that there was also a part of my art practice I was denying myself. It seems so obvious now to call myself a multidisciplinary artist but I am still having trouble owning that title. Making art has always come so naturally to me. Not a day goes by where I don’t create something and yet, for the longest time I thought I was failing because I didn’t have one prevalent theme or focus and I haven’t exactly figured out how to make money from my art. This creativity would pour out of me and I would try and contain it, try to wrap it up into a neat little box that made perfect sense to the outside world instead of just letting it go, letting it wander and become what it might become.
For the remainder of the residency I honoured this creative flow and I felt like I was in paradise. I braided my friends' hair and thought about how much I loved creating something new and connecting with someone this way. I sang Nina Simone and hoped I was waking up the ancestors. I macramed a vulva and gifted it to the woman I had a crush on. I painted her and then painted random shapes from my head. I danced. I wrote a poem about a butterfly I met, who landed in front of my camera for just a second. But really the poem wasn’t about the butterfly, it was about freedom.
I paid attention to my dreams and shared my stories. I wrote down how I was feeling and shrugged my shoulders when I didn’t feel like writing. I took part in a life drawing class and felt liberated lying there naked and posing with another friend. I participated in some performances and felt the magic of co-creation. I cried when I needed to and stretched when my body prompted me to. I savoured the food I was eating and gave thanks to the people around me. I took photos of things that moved me and noticed the way my body moved. I admired myself out loud. I meditated and spent hours listening to the flow of the river. I drank Cacao. I praised the earth and worshipped the sun. I didn’t even realise I was doing it but I found my own way of praying.
I can't say enough about the friends and facilitators I met on this trip. They were truly inspirational humans and I believe the connection and co-creation I experienced was life-changing. I don't have enough words to express my gratitude to everyone who participated in this art and magic residency so for anyone who is reading this, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Making art felt too complicated so instead I gave myself permission to be free and when we were given the option to present our work at the end of the project, I gathered every bit of tangible work I had created including a list of what I believed queer black liberation meant to me (below), some drawings and poems and found that everything had come full circle. When I stopped trying to force it, I realised that I did have something of worth to show after all and that it was me. I was enough. This epiphany was liberation, this was the greatest art project of all. This exploration of queer black liberation was not a project I would do once and put aside but a life long commitment to myself and ultimately I had achieved exactly what I had set out to do.
Queer black Liberation and what it means to me Feb 2023
Abandoning the need to explain/be understood by everyone and go of the expectation that everyone in my life will be ready of willing to learn and grow with me
Spending time with inner child and practicing compassion and self-love
Rejecting the need to assimilate
Accepting that I will never fully "Fit in" anywhere
Accepting the right to sanctuary/safe space
Claiming the right to take up space
Radical vunverability
Confronting traumas and reconciling innrer batt;es and fears
Learning to choose my battles
Embracing the world of possibilities beyond gender/heteronorms/decolonizing my own preconceptions and embracing my fluidity
Allowing myself to fulfill my desires/choose pleasure
Removing myself from situations and people who are harmful to my wellbeing
Asking for help and realazing everything is connected and we need each other
Defininig myself, for myself
Prioritizing spiritual practice and importance of connecting with my inner power
Existing, playing, living, creating and dreaming of a world beyond capitalism.
My end of residency presentation
My time in Rio seemingly went by so quickly. After a long, bumpy ride out of the forest and into the city, I had reached the party sector of my trip and I was ready to let loose but the universe had other plans. The life lessons were continuing to present themselves but I was having fun and appreciating the obstacles as learning opportunities. One of them came in the form of an ear infection which had to be treated with antibiotics meaning I had to avoid being in water and drinking alcohol. But I didn’t mind so much. I was staying with some friends that I met, which took care of the socializing aspect of my time in Rio. While I did tick some things like Escadario Selaron, Ipamena and copcabana beaches, I found myself less interested in doing touristy things and more interested in enjoying the relationships we had been cultivating.
I was putting into action this new discovery that I had the power to free myself all along and really began to honour that and enjoy everything I was doing. Even walking down the streets felt magical. I went to the beach and soaked up the sunshine. I played with cats and dogs and observed Christ the redeemer from many angles but never got too close! I went to a Leudji Luna concert and even though I didn’t understand a word she was singing, I understood the vibrant, diverse and radical energy of the crowd. I went to see a forro band and observed the boldness in the unapologetically sensual way the dancers moved their bodies. I took part in a Samba class and stared googly eyed at the teacher, a beautiful black woman who choreographed the class with grace and joy and a new flavour of badassery I had never witnessed before. I had learned a little about how Samba was used as a form of political protest and how samba music became a symbol of resistance and although I only had a brief introduction to this, I felt strength and power in every movement as I stepped and stomped and tried to keep up with the class.
A romance I experienced confirmed that love can be simple and opened and hammered home the fact that rebelling against heteronorms and sticking to the relationship styles and principles I believe in is worth it. I was feeling open and fulfilled and aligned with my beliefs. That being said, some other encounters reminded me that I still have some work to do around shame when it comes to interacting with men but I’ll save elaborating on that for my therapy sessions.
Tour of Little Africa
I took a walking tour with a company called Guru walk and our wonderful guide led a tour through the area known as “Little Africa '' and talked us through the influences of Africa on Brazilian culture, how it emerged in things like capoeira, samba and feijoada. A lot of these things held roots in the African slave communities. We explored the historic home of the Afro-Brazilian community in the Port Region of Rio De Janeiro which was formed when slavery was made illegal in Brazil in 1831. (It wasn’t fully abolished until 50 years later). I was impressed by our guide's patience as one of the people on the tour, an old white German guy interrupted her and made ignorant comments. She seemed to have it under control and I was grateful to exchange looks of disbelief with a black woman from the UK as I was both shocked and unsurprised at his disrespect.
Slave port of entry Rio Dejanerio:
I knew the tour was going to have an emotional effect on me but it felt important to attend. Ever since I stopped looking at the world through a white lens, the mention of slavery carries new weight. It's hard to describe but I feel it in my cells in a way I never used to and in a way I feel a lot of black people can relate to, regardless of where they live in the world. When we arrived at the main port of entry for the slave trade, a knot began twisting inside me and my heart beat incresed. It's a pretty sickening feeling to imagine that me or my father or siblings or cousins could have been somebody's property if we had been born in a different place in a different era. Sometimes my mind wanders and I think about how the shade of my skin might have affected the level of brutality I would have had to endure. But for so many people this was a reality and the awareness of just how recent these events happened and being in the place where they did felt like shots of pain to my body. Anxiety built up in that place between my eyes and my ears as I clenched my jaw to stop myself from crying.
I tried countering this feeling with gratitude for all of the horrors I was spared because of where and when I came into the world and Maya Angelo’s words echoed in my ear as they often do when I think about slavery. “I am the hope and the dream of the slave”. I was reminded once again that choosing joy and choosing a life that is as free as possible is the only way to honour the spirits of these ancestors. I am still unpacking this huge bundle and the tour wasn’t exactly fun but it was informative. I found it unnerving how people were just walking around doing life surrounded by all these ghosts.
We visited some monuments and landmarks and I took photos of some of the art that was commissioned to be painted at the port district during the 2016 Olympic games, Including a mural by Soa Paulo born Kobra called “Las Etnias” (The Ethnicities) which was the largest street mural recorded at the time and depicted five indigenous faces from different continents representing the five olympics rings and the cultural diversity of the games. The mural was cool, and impressive no doubt but I was more drawn to the smaller works like the mural by Marina Lattuca, a large drawing of African bodies huddled together replicating the conditions they were made to endure in the building opposite. The building is a large warehouse which in the past acted as a holding barn for thousands of slaves but was now re-painted in bright colours and unmarked. It's wild to think that this graffiti was the only thing in place to commemorate these lives.
We took photos on those steps that had a giant Brazilian flag painted on them. The tour ended at Pedra do Sal, on an upbeat, despite everything we had just gone through in the past two hours. I was hungry and decided to get dinner at the square where there was samba playing and I found myself sitting across from a white Belgian girl asking me how she was supposed to feel after the tour and telling me she didn’t know what to do with the guilt. Though her feelings were completely valid, I’m pretty sure what was going through my head and her head during the tour were two very different experiences and I knew that I could not tell her what she should and shouldn’t feel. And so I told her that I too carried that question for a long time until I started educating myself and knowing myself and maybe that was a good place to start. And then I changed the subject.
Truthfully I had many suggestions but I have no idea how they would have been received. I don’t know what to do with white privilege because it was never mine but I certainly had some feelings about my proximity to whiteness and that was my own journey I was and still am working hard to come to peace with. This woman needed to do her own work. Perhaps the question was rhetorical, but still. I knew this wouldn’t be the last time I would be asked to do emotional labour that would likely go unappreciated. The air had changed and I’m not sure if she even noticed. A year ago I wouldn’t even have had the strength to engage in that conversation at all. Even if I did try and offer some concrete suggestions, I had no idea how that would be received.
I got really excited about the power of knowledge when I switched up my reading material last year and started reading more non-fiction and through it I found new ways of understanding the world and new ways of understanding myself. I’ve been inspired, shocked, ashamed, heartbroken, angry, liberated and hungry for more. While my world was turning upside down and it reached a point where I needed certain support, as delicately as I could I asked a couple of important people in my life to step up in their allyship and they were some of the hardest and most awkward conversations I’ve ever had to have. I was overwhelmed by how different the world looked now and I hoped that through reading books that had a transformative effect on me, they would understand me more. I felt the books were a way of expressing the things that were too difficult for me to say but when they didn’t respond the way I hoped they would, my life changed in other ways. I’ve come to peace with the fact that I can’t control other people's perceptions of what is important and for my sanity I have to pick and choose which battles to fight and where to direct my energy. This interaction with this stranger was not something I I was interested in going there for.
I felt like so much had shifted in the short time I spent in Brazil and I really wanted to honour this transformation as my time came to a closed. I got my hair braided which was a longer process than expected because I didn’t know where to go. I took out my phone and started asking random African women with braids where I should go and was lead into various stores and down various streets until I finally found somewhere that could do it. I suspected I was being overcharged and attempted to negotiate prices which is more difficult to do without Portuguese. I asked how long it would take and I was told “not long” and for the next four hours I squirmed uncomfortably as my scalp was pulled so tightly tears rolled down my face. I asked for an adjustment as I thought the pain was unnecessary but she barely responded. I left feeling like a goddess with beautiful long braids and but I thought this might be the last time I let somebody else do that to me and started to think about all the ways the experience could have been more comfortable.
I wanted to get a tattoo that would represent the strength and power I had both witnessed and begun to embody. I thought again about Oshun who seemingly appeared in so many ways and I reached out to a tattoo artist about designing a piece to go on my thigh. I was impressed when she asked me about why I wanted to get this tattoo. I had been a little worried that I was appropriating an important religious symbol but I truly felt connected and inspired by Oshun’s greatness and I discussed this and my West African roots with her before finalising the design and committing to having her on my body forever. Getting the tattoo done was a beautiful process, even though I arrived for my appointment almost an hour late, I was greeted with literal open arms. India was mixed race and specialized in black and mixed skin. Because of my lack of Portugeuse and her lack of english, her husband translated everything for us and I was so happy to have a queer couple bring this beautiful artwork to life. The joy was radiating from her as she obviously loves what she does and the whole process felt sacred. Afterwards we ate together and they saw me off to my Uber.
Leaving time
Time seemed to move differently in Rio than time in Vancouver. The city was chaotic and bustling but there didn’t seem to be the same hustle culture I was used to in Vancouver. Of course I only spent just over a week in Rio De Janeiro and it definitely wasn’t enough time to experience everything I wished for or get a proper feel for what it is like to live there. Still though, for my time there, I allowed myself to be seduced by the sounds and smells and colours and music and of course the beautiful Brazilians I had the pleasure of meeting along the way. I would have stayed for another few months if I didn't have my flight pre-booked for Vancouver. I will be back.
I have never felt so connected to a place I technically have no ties to in this way and I started to joke that I must have been Brazilian in a past life. In reality I believe it was my openness to transformation that ensured this was an important and life-changing excursion. If we let ourselves pause and observe and notice the things around us, anything can be transformative. My time in Brazil reminded me that there are other ways of living, that the grind is not the only thing to focus on in life. I acknowledge that saying this comes from a privileged place. We are all victims of capitalism and a belief our worth is connected to how much we produce. The systems are not designed for liberation and living a life that prioritizes joy and creation is not always encouraged. I knew that trying to disrupt these systems while still living in them is no easy feat but I was already beginning to see the benefits of integrating these concepts into my life. Maybe I am not here to do things someone else’s way and maybe enjoying life and living it to its maximum is the point. Maybe I was not born to centre my entire existence around labour. Perhaps I am here to create and connect and be of service to my community instead, to learn and expand and figure out my purpose. As I picked up my swollen heart and said goodbye to my new friends preparing for my return to Vancouver I was no longer confused about what the concept of “Queer black liberation” means and instead I thought, maybe, just maybe, I could try living this.
