Where I’m Going

I know exactly which way

to get to King Street and I

don’t need a man telling me.

Which way to 1633 King Street?

-Keep pointing somewhere you want

me to go. But I didn’t ask you, did I?

I asked your wife.

Excuse me Mam…

-Am I drunk? Should it matter…

That I know if you know what I am

Didn’t think so

that’s why I’m asking her.

-My attitude, my business. Don’t be rude,

my name is Eva and I’m nineteen.

What more do you need to know?

 

Just like a man, he’s always pressing

against the small of my back.

Are you The Potter now? Do I look like clay?

I don’t need your gentle pushes.

Like a stranger who thinks

he’s found our piece of ass, I mean art

for him to weld the best scraps

and make his perfect woman.

I’m no one’s project.

Keep your gold star

old dirty bastard.

 

-So I’m fast? Fast like Allyson Felix

or fast like the way you came

Looking me up and down,

pretending to care?

Your wife is here man. She’s not your honey

and I’m not your sweetheart

or whatever other confections you wanna

throw into the pot

Mr. Chef Boyardee.

-Now he’s tryna tell you not

to talk to me, your sister?

 

Just like a guy to crown himself

and change your title, what you can keep.

Mrs. Cleo please

don’t walk away.

-I told you my name is Arsinoe,

I mean Eva…nineteen.

I’m lost and I’m drunk, too

young to be out here in these streets

left alone, but you already knew that.

You’re all ready to leave me

here with these dogs.

-I said you’re a dog!

Can you shut him up please

and tell me

exactly which way to Queen’s Street?

 

How to Raise Dragons

A father with two young girls.

A single father with two young girls.

Where has his dragon gone?

The beauty who watched over all

his treasures?

So many said tame her,

They said tame her glorious being.

Wrap gold around her neck

and help her to suffer

for all her riches.

When she accumulated

so much

sickness from this world

needles wrenched under her amour

and found their place,

sending her to the next.

All for fame the father cries out,

Now the lonely father cries out and prays,

“Oh Mother, what can I say?”

How can a man raise dragons?

And her eyes answered,

piercing from their gold frame on

the stone mantle and said,

“Tell them to trade fire…

When precious things captivate

their swelling breasts,

trade fire and nest together.”

 

We Live in the Mirror

A reflection

with dust covering over the surface

and sticky yellow residue.

A mixture of rust and condensation.

Menstrual blood watered with condemnation.

 

Clear it with alcohol,

and love every one that passes through.

Fix that mirror

with the coarsest grit.

 

No matter how intricate,

exotic and fashionable,

that frame could be switched.

The mirror can be held by another.

 

The dark masculine backing

that allows you just to see yourself

gets stripped away.

Rub across the surface once more

See right through a window

at our sisters walking by.

See yourself in them.

A binding of love and contemplation,

Drawn from man with our own creations.

My name is Lauren, and this is The Femme Forum. This is a blog about my personal journey in the creative industry that I hope will become a platform for all women of color in the creative arts to connect and grow. I’m currently a writer in the way most writers who’ve never published anything get too wrapped up in their own heads to actually complete a story, and/or get stumped after graduating because they actually want to afford to live and do other stuff like, travel, invest… not live on instant ramen.

I’ve been writing stories since I was a child but was too shy to join school magazine clubs. When I got older, I wrote poetry for my family and church events but struggled to see my words as more than a hobby. Most of the black girls around me were interested in dance and singing, and while I did my fair share of both, anytime I was caught with a book in my hand (which was all the time) I was called a bookworm or nerd. At the same time, the adults around me would constantly preach about how writers don’t make any money, and the most successful authors I knew like J. K. Rowling and Stephen King didn’t look like me. Hell, nobody in the media looked like me unless they were a video vixen or a super sexy actress like Halle Berry. Where did brown-skinned, bookworm me fit in?

Things had gotten way more diverse in media since the nineties and 2000s, and in college I was encouraged to take classes in creative writing and establish my personality outside the judgement of my peers, but I still struggled to feel supported or inspired. Anyone who has to work through school knows how difficult it is to find classes that allow you to function as a real adult and extra-curricular activities that don’t require you to live on campus. Since I was a spring transfer, commuter student, there was no club rush or social scene, and I didn’t actually see a college advisor until my graduating semester. Yeah, UC Berkeley flubbed that up big time, but that’s another story.

If all these things seem like excuses to you, you’re right. During this time I could’ve written to magazines for free, posted on reddit, or started this blog earlier. I admit that I wasn’t proactive or passionate about pursuing writing as more than a hobby and though the factors I mentioned had something to do with what opportunities were available to me, the main thing that held me back was my own insecurity over being in school for so long. I just wanted my path to make sense to everybody, but I couldn’t explain how a twenty-three-year-old black girl who transferred from community college to pursue an English degree in a crappy economy instead of becoming a doctor would match up to that ideal.

Part of the problem is that I had no point of reference and no connections. Shonda Rhimes and Issa Rae are doing amazing things to change this, but there is still a disparity for women of color who want to be on the other side of a camera or nowhere near it. I could have gone to an HBCU to be surrounded by everybody who looks like me, but I never wanted to be in a bubble of black people because it’s not the world I grew up in. The Bay Area is a mixture of so many people of different backgrounds and while I identify with the struggles we share apart from the majority and I feel that there should be a place of encouragement for us and other marginalized ethnicities. It may have taken this long for me to warm up to it, but that’s my life and my personal walk of growth. I realize now that I am my own point of reference for success and part of what makes me feel happy being able to build a legacy and a community. So instead of doing an interview ten years later grazing over how I got to where I am, I want to share my journey with a level of transparency that includes the ups and downs. I hope you’ll share yours too!