Magma Carter
04/08/2022
the fabric written into our existence is:
having to dig fingernails into Black mass
until we understand the secrets we’ve
muttered into charred soil; rancid w/ grief;
regret; shame; sacrificed soul, unspoken.
is it really: we can only create equality and fusion
of opposing mindsets through processes synthetic;
leveling agents and sugar-filled additions
of black and white until they cohabitate;
coexist; mix with one another until harmonious—
only in a baking secret known to seldom souls
daring enough to curiously-chemically create?
we’re all just tartufo, waiting to blend; melt
in circular fashion; waiting to be cracked
and devoured by the next soul who thinks
our existence ever so delicious a commodity. ]1
]1 [it’s not that: the existence of Black women
is so inflammable; combustible even. it’s that:
the combustibility of Blackness is so inexorably felt
when people spout absurd rhetoric against
our being supported the more margins
we have combined with Blackness: being a woman;
queerness; any self- or society-imposed label of otherness;
identity; individuality; “counting” in census.
naysayers make out to be a sordid idea to conform—
or attempt to succeed—within institutions who speak
and write us so readily out of their conversations.
I find this bullshit: the thought that our foot
will get in and not plant (itself firmly). we will
stand and stay; stay and speak; stand and elucidate;
stand and advocate; stand and change; stand and
reclaim. but that very last word is where we sink…]
we’ve lost ourselves on this fight of reclamation—
so much so that we would fight to reclaim air
(just as easily as we’d fight to tax every molecule
of it to turn around the quickest profit).
why is it: people are obsessed with preserving
the soul of the Black woman; mitigating
and subverting regretful existence; innocence;
scrubbing cells dry of regret-inducing experience.
it’s truly regretful and shameful when we
aren’t given the opportunity to fill positions
full of merit; seriousness; professionalism;
tact; grace; administration. how will things change
if the next generation physically does not see
anyone like them in positions of power—but
people who cower over the enterprise of change;
think it past them to change institutionalized
mindsets; stagnant rhetoric; oppressive
educational practice and praxis? however pragmatic
of you—ever concerned, empathetic human—
so exorbitantly holier than thou
to deny me so exactly and finitely of greatness.
despite the most benevolent intentions,
it’s exactly what you do: white women;
white men; Black men; Black women.
sadly, none of you are exempt from this process.
it’s really the unabashed telling of truth
that maximizes how societally dangerous
and unhinged we seem, somehow wanting to free
ourselves daily is so banal; unoriginal while untamed.
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