JOY = PAIN
ECSTASY = DEATH
POWER = HATE
The closer you get to something real the greater the opposite force and it feels like they are trying to kill you. like they (white people, men, etc) actually want you dead. They want to take you out at the fucking knees. YOU HURT ME. I thought you were my fucking friend.
That feeling of mastery. The keys underhand. The inzone dance, serena’s crip walk. The last hurrah of a ballet dancer or figure skater that moment when you nail it what if it brings you the most joy possible what if you touch god in that moment but simultaneously means your death. The more you soar the more you are persecuted punished attacked shamed challenged.
“It explores the utopian longings and the promise of a future world that resided in waywardness and the refusal to be governed.”
“In this other life, she would not be required to take all the shit that no one else would accept and pretend to be grateful.”
— Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments: Intimate Histories of Social Upheaval by Saidiya Hartman