Overwhelmed. I wish I was shocked.

Overwhelmed. I wish I was shocked. Embarrassed at the lack of overt commentary from this art form. An art form rooted in reaction to racism, birthed in struggle, how do you dance to this? Somehow you better. Somehow you better realize when the music you’re dancing to comes from people that have been exploited, the best tribute you can have is setting yourself loose in unity with the exploited. How do you do that when on the same weekend you’re playing, in the same city, a man just like you has quietly, arbitrarily, been silenced by one paid to protect him and the public?

How do you dance when we still swing from trees, when we still are murdered in front of our loved ones, murdered while subdued and harmless? How do you dance when our very image as a people is used to manipulate sympathy for a system of belief that wants you and your children to be dead or in jail? You better. You better learn to listen with your body, you better play from your heart. It was a preference before, now it’s essential. Escapism has always been an adjective used to describe the dance. That’s an outsider’s view. Solidarity is what it really offers…

Theo Parrish


2 thoughts on “Overwhelmed. I wish I was shocked.”

  1. Your younger brother who is studying in a residential school has been caught playing truant. You decide to write him a letter to advise him to take school seriously. I was disappointed to hear from mum that you got into trouble with your discipline teacher. I was surprised to hear it, as I know that you do like your school and have done well in your exams so far. Mum said that you have to take extra classes now. That is not too bad and I hope that you can take your punishment in good spirit.

  2. I didn t feel it was necessary to pass them off to another school professional who was already overwhelmed with schedule changes, truancy reports, and standardized test coordination. I could be present for them as both a teacher and person, as a trusted adult and a co-habitant of the world. So I leaned in and let it fly. I shared my own personal stories of being bullied in high school and also the times when I bullied other kids. I told them that I was also a hopeless romantic and prone to having my heart broken and breaking the hearts of others. I let them know that I, too, struggled with believing that I was a good person worthy of love.

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