The Bond - All My Poetry Sistahs

(Me... Since I haven't gotten permission to post pics of all the amazing sistah-poets I know...lol)

The other bond I need to discuss is the bond within my poetry circle. The sistahs who have crossed my path through reading, hearing, and feeling their words are beautiful and amazing. There are too many to list, and also some have places with different bonds in my life, but being able to listen and feel the words said by a sistah, when she expresses something from her soul always affects and educates me. We all have different struggles, stand for different things, and want to raise awareness for different issues but poetry has always given me a way to better understand things in the women around my life. They give me breath when I am sometimes unable to breathe.

           

Poetry has been a part of my life since I could write. I won a poetry contest for a poem I wrote about a teacher in grade 3, after she secretly submitted it in my name. After finding out that I won, I was asked to come and read it at a reception ceremony at our local library. I had written it out of thanks because this teacher had held me and wiped my tears numerous times when I was bullied or teased for being the only black student in the class. On one occasion a student told me that I was not to touch the “skin color” crayon because it was only for “normal” people (and yes, this was when Crayola made one crayon called “skin color” and it was peach and I was not). I cried my eyes out and my teacher kept me in at recess so she could talk to me and try to build some confidence in my crushed spirit. I wrote that poem because I appreciated her so much in that moment and I wanted her to know that what she did for me was life changing, even at such a young age. I had never thought about sharing it with anyone other than her.

            

(Me at the Grade 3 Poetry Contest Reception... fly outfit and hair courtesy of Mama... lol)

I showed up to this event and my mom had dressed me all up. I was nervous and I just remember how proud my mom was and that I had to do it because my mom had made such a big deal about it. My mom has always been my biggest supporter. I read my poem and saw my teacher’s eyes well up with tears, and everyone loved it. They all commented to her about how special she must be and what a great teacher she was. It was the first time I realized that I could make someone else understand my feelings, even if it was just a fraction of my actual feelings, through poetry.

            

I didn’t really get into performing until I was in university. The sistahs there were so strong and I wanted to be strong like them. They spoke about experiences I could relate to. They spoke about experiences I had no idea existed. They spoke from their hearts and their words let me in, gave me inspiration, and showed me things in different lights. None of these sistahs are the same and yet we share so much.

            

Sometimes we would have writing sessions with some of these sistahs, where we would all sit, and share and bounce ideas off of each other, or give valuable criticism to help each other grow as artists. I loved just being part of the circle. Anything was up for discussion and it helped me to learn so much about what was happening in their lives, what issues were important to them, or just to laugh and have fun with the love present in the room.

            

Some sistahs have reached me and may not know how much their poems have affected me. Sometimes I hear a sistah on the mic and their words follow me home and make me research, discover and leave a place in my heart. Sometimes I have the courage to let them know how much I am affected by their words and sometimes I don’t have the words to express what they mean to me for sharing their poems with the world.

There is a real power in spoken word poetry. There is a long history of storytelling starting with the griot and a drum and a history that was told in ways to make you understand by feeling it. This is in my blood, and I even see the tradition in my daughter who naturally wants to write and speak. When a sistah gets on that mic and shares something from her soul there is magic. Something happens that can’t be described, but can only be experienced. There is an unspoken bond with these women that is forever.