Black, African, POC, NB, queer, trans, marginalized, under-represented....

I write to and for the parts of myself that bleed. I allow my blood to grace the space between words. To levitate to raise the flow. Like music, I attack my unbearable. I prefer my attack to be bold, fearless, uncompromising, irreverent, unafraid, fierce, unapologetic; atomic in subject, theme and structural lawlessness. My work neither asks for permission nor seeks validation nor Anointing from anyone, anywhere, anyhow at any time. I live to create an unscripted social imaginary through material that explodes the stale, Old, egocentric Order with its cheap version of Radicalism posing as “style”, “shock”, “edgy”, “disruptive”. Hahahaha. I privilege “misfits and outcasts”, more marginalized characters, the so-called "losers" of this world who breathe Life into the margins. Here, at the margins, in the abomination, this is where I find God. I believe we "losers" are an offering to the divine. As prayer we morph to miracles who gift this world with an emotional offering because of, not despite our lack of material resources. I believe “outcasts” are better equipped to illuminate, read: reveal what it truly means to be a human being because, whenever and wherever you are marginalized, everything in this world screams "never enough, too UGLY, invisible, fat, unworthy, too "poor", too Black, not white enough, not trans enough, too queer, disabled" etc. so I scream back: "FUCK YOU!” I scream: “I EXIST and WILL FULLY." In my scream is queer anarchy, Black creativity, Black excellence outside perfection, queer power, hurt, fear, queer pain, tears, queer joy. In my scream is the affirmation of Life within each breath. My scream is the resilience, resistance and revolution in my queer trans Black African body birthed by (my) experience. In short, on the page, I script queer screams to triumph beyond eternity, to celebrate the ancestral wisdom that brought queer Black people to right now.