Musings of a Warrior Scholar

Stillness2Justice a Year On.

Hello!

It’s a year since I launched project Stillness2Justice. Already? I hear you say. I know, I've not always been consistent with this labour of love, but it has provided an outlet, created a platform and opened unexpected doors – for which I am truly thankful.

Prompted with a nudge from my friends in Australia, I launched it on the anniversary of George Floyd’s murder. A way of remembering to create space to breathe.

My womanist musings have included reflections on the co-existence of ‘unity and diversity’; sentiments of ‘One Love’ and ‘Out of Many, One People’. This year I want the work to be more embodied somehow. But I don't know what that looks like right now. More time dancing maybe.

I was raised in a very multicultural, intergenerational setting; with ‘aunts and uncles’ that (being white working class) were clearly not real relatives. English, Jamaican’s, Italian’s, Polish, Pakistani and Indian, all rubbed up alongside one another as community in this suburban town; that propped up the industrial revolution, with its factories, furnaces, railways and canals. As I got older, the monkey chants and calls of “go back to where you came from”, grew bolder. Likewise the appearance of National Front stickers pasted on the wall opposite our council house: part of the tension in a Thatcherite world. Like my white Gen X friends I grew up to ‘rage against the machine’ and to “fight the power” (in theory anyway). Though I view myself as “a lover not a fighter” the reality is we learnt to have a healthy balance of both. Our generation pushed against the pressure to perform. Happy dismantlers of the status quo.

I was not “raised in the black church” as the stereotypes imagine that we all do. I visited many contexts of my own freewill ( though I was taken to Sunday school as a child) and l had exposure to many different expressions from majority white, full on black Pentecostal, straight laced Methodist to Charismatic and evangelical, spaces where we were definitely a novelty. My primary school was Church of England, so that obviously shaped me too. Being a quirky creative, I didn't really fit in anywhere. I find the theatre of religion hard to bare even today. But I love God and there are times I need to be in community.

Ten years ago- May 19^th 2014: I received a prophetic word from a guy called Chris Green at a ‘Vision Business’ prayer group for creative/entrepreneurs. There were no more than 10 of us gathered, praying into new ideas as a community. Film makers, property owners, writers and producers. A company of dreamers. Chris had written his vision for me on a scrap of paper in red ink: “As I was praying I saw you as a warrior with a machete going into new creative territory, But it’s all in the lords strength through you.” As he handed the vision to me post prayer he opened the bible and pointed to Joshua 1:9 ‘Be strong and courageous ….for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go”. I chewed on his word like manna, over the years, contemplating its meaning “what is it?”, testing, trying and watching the word manifest.

Had you told me 10 years prior that the new creative territory would involve storying aspects of my lived experience to scholars interested in Black/Womanist/Liberation Theology, I would not have believed it.

But at this years, SST (Society for the Study of Theology) conference at the University of Warwick, I delivered a paper: ‘A Black British Womanist’s Auto-ethnographic Path to Liberation’ based on my MA dissertation, that featured aspects of my childhood story. The paper focused on an incident that happened to me at a dance awards ceremony, aged 9. It was meant to be a joyous occasion but instead it marks the recollection of my ‘first’ direct experience of racism, at the hands of an older white woman who humiliated me in such a profound manner that I blocked the memory until three decades later (a few weeks after Chris delivered his prophetic word).

Ironically I was at a healing retreat when the memory returned!

Warrior with a machete…

When I received Chris’ prophetic word, likening me to a ‘warrior with a machete’, I understood the machete, to symbolise a fearless means of communication, my pen and my voice. With this weapon I could dismantle and re-build what needed to be heard or seen. I could “speak truth to power”. After all as an artist, writer, poet and actress I used the tools and skills regularly. His word also alluded to the pioneering nature of the endeavour. I have always felt compelled to forge new spaces (sometimes out of boredom) but it does mean the risk of getting stung and bitten. My imagination took me to the wild terrain that I would have to navigate. And boy has it been wild, constantly chopping down accusations, barriers and hurdles- real and imagined. Whilst using the pastoral and empath side to build, reestablish and love. I have suffered (in case that doesn't come across in my jovial missive). I was constantly faced with: ‘who do you think you are?’; ‘why don’t you go back to where you came from?’ and the judgemental side eye of ‘can anything good come from theatre?’

The answer is yes! Yes it can.

I came to Theology after experiencing one too many incidents of racism amongst church folk. My research question: If we are All made it the image and likeness of God why are some (particularly black women) treated as ‘less than ?’

When I finished my presentation and responded to questions at the conference- some asked about why I had not included my grandmother’s voice in the story. Others talked about drawing on the lived experiences of black women in the church and community or commented on my privileged position as one that could master the literary art of storytelling and the English language signalling that a majority of our black church folk could not. But non picked up on the fact that this was an exercise in the scholar giving voice to her ( 9 year old ) self and in doing so; giving permission to countless other silenced black religious scholars to do the same. The ‘bold and courageous’ move to carve out this new creative territory utilising my own lived experience as a scholarly endeavour in its own right (which is a legitimately womanist research methodology) was marginalised.

Whilst I do not for a minute regret taking part (because I believe I offered something of value whilst also receiving affirmation) I can also say that I was somewhat numbed by it. The act of taking my voice back whilst having to defend my choices in the subsequent Q&A was somewhat overwhelming. The irony is that I was there to talk about a path to liberation without being fully present in that moment. I was not embodying the journey because like the little girl I felt a need to safeguard myself, despite being among scholarly brothers and sisters and giants of Black theology.

Whilst dance features in this trauma narrative, she is not the oppressor. After the dominant power exploited me for her own gain (by standing me on a chair and brutally cutting my dress), I went on to perform, dress torn, psyche violated. No wonder I would rise up to rage against the machine, as a young person. I mastered the pen (aka machete) to dismantle lies, systems, minds and myths ever since the Handsworth Riots (aged 10). A year later. Dance became a spiritual act, an embodied practice that would serves as liberator-calling me home. She whispers “Don't Stop”.

And so, as I sit outside in nature fully present I send a blessing to you, my Chocolate and Vanilla brothers and sisters:

May the next season be embodied, full of healing and creative expression.

May you move beyond your desks and pulpits, papers and ‘things to do’ to embrace the dance of life in all its beauty, passion and quirky playfulness.

May you remember that your inner child may be calling, not just to speak up for you but countless others who feel silenced and discouraged

May the new creative territory of your interior, flourish beyond the head to the heart where true liberation lives.

And may we never stop, until we soar into eternity.

As one!

Amen.

Much Love.