THE NINETEENTH: VOLUME THREE

BLACK LOVE THEATRE (BLT) was an exhibition that I stitched 35o hours by hand. From the quilted pieces, to the custom movie screen,

that work celebrated how Black folks love each other through and through. It was a curated ceremonial cinema space, debuting at the EXP3 Show at M2 Gallery, that gave viewers an intimate glimpse of my process, my life, and the ways that Black folks share our adoration. Using my wedding as inspiration, BLT incorporated pieces that were made specifically for our nuptials, like my aisle runner, the “Yellow Fabric Road” , and a custom quilt, “Jumping the Broom”, which was a wedding gift for my husband, Quincy. The exhibit was my anniversary gift to my love, reflecting on our first year married, and all of the sacrifices made by Black families and Black lovers to make a monumental moment, like tying the knot, possible. In addition to the hand stitched work, I also wrote poetry, a wave from spiritual praise to the GAWDS to the comfort of eating a bowls of GRITS. In this volume of THE NINETEENTH, I am sharing images of that sacred work and words. All blessings, and definitely all love.

Dear, Gawd, I was violated at 15, Afraid to be around men, Afraid that love would pass me over, Afraid of everything, A broken bird with no song, A nightingale surrounded by darkness, “Will I ever see the light again? Or sing again? Or ‘be’ again?” I asked you for those answers, And they seemed to never come, Prayer is complicated when you ’ re young, Dear, Gawd, Allow me to grow older, And grow stronger, And be less afraid, This is what I prayed for, Brighter days,

For a broken bird to once again fly, And sing more than she cried… Settled in a nest of my pain, I lay empty eggs, Never take flight, Dear, Gawd, I’m in my 40’s now, And it’s flight time, It took decades to mend my broken wings, Take my broken things, And discard them, Take my broken places, And regard them as a road map for healing, I’m easing on down the road, With my love in tow, Love for myself, And love for my mate, A person that erases every fear, And may we be fruitful,

Joyful, So full of life, Dear, Gawd, Thank you for making me Quincy’s wife, A man who wasn’t afraid of my broken places,

Lifetime partnership Commit And com

All that I Honors, Will che And resp I vow to Secure, And pro Provide Nurture And bui Who I ta And I ta Lifetime I’ll be at And not They cal No M-IJust the My lover I got the And the A two-st And a bi Come liv And sha I promis And mo Ever afte And Eternal

Let’s jump the broom today, A portal into a new world, Marriage and magic, Marked by gnarled wood, Eucalyptus, feathers, Baby’s Breath, Straw, and Twine,

A Cameroonian passport mask, Ancestors, Bless’ed be,

Our bodies bind together in an ancient love spell, Cast in freedom,

Fortified to weather any storm, And we know,

How special this broom is, Snapped from tornado wind, Tossed about the yard, Pulled from debris, A buried treasure among broken trees, Debarked and sealed with anointed oils

A conduit for an Let’s jump the b

The same hand

Pull back the fo

We take a deep One, Two, Three!

Silver slippers o Fleshy kisses to We’s married n

We’s married n

An announcem

Time traveling

What a mystica

And yet, It is the most tr

So happy to be And magic, With you.

Some only she knew and were planted with her in the grave, Some passed down, Before she passed away, But all of them tried and true, She was an alchemist like no other, Pelahatchie Root Woman, Could take this, And take that, To make this, And make that, Into something so delicious, That it make you wanna slap yo mama But don’t, Black mamas slap back!

All I wanted on my wedding day was my Memaw’s pound cake, “They call it ‘pound cake’ cause they use a pound of butter”, I can hear her voice, Emotional recall, I reckon, “You need 6 eggs, room temperature, beat your eggs in one at a time” Pure vanilla extract, Sugar, Salt,

A little almond, I remember how warm the oven made her tiny k Yet she could make meals that would feed the mu She be something like the first, second, and third Cooking up a storm for everyone, And baking me a pound cake, The only dessert I ate, Memaw was at my wedding in other ways, When the wind blew past my face, Or when the birds sung their songs, And seeing my mother’s eyes, In which she gave to her, And in turn she gave to me, Big brown eyes, And big yellow thighs, Looking just like a slice, Of my Memaw’s pound cake.

Let’s put some honey in our moon water, Let it sit under the stars, And the luminous light of Luna, Golden nectar, From the Gawds, How lucky am I to be hitched to you? How lucky are we to jump the broom, Sweeping away the old, Coming into the new, Celebrating one life, Between just us two, Give me some sugar, Honey! And let’s sip on this ocean moon water, Can’t you feel Yemaya soothing our trepidation? We’re free now! Free to roam,

Season to taste, Sugar, Honey, Molasses, Buttah, On my grits, Maybe a little shrimp, Onion, Pepper, Maybe a little andouille, Or fried catfish, Spice, And extra sugar, On my grits, Muah, And on my lips, My dishes, And my kisses, Reserved only for you, You got me, Singing off key, Jill Scott on repeat, And a spoonful of Memaw’s recipes, I comb through the memories of us in A glass of champagne, Toast on the side, Morning, Noon, Or night, You are seasoned to my taste, Who knew that a lover could be so deli Every day I have a piece of you, Until my tummy, And my heart is full, And every day I’m satisfied, A bowl of grits, And you by my side.

There is something between us that only we understand, The way our Mamas lick their thumbs to dig the sleep outta of our eyes, The way our Grandmothers braid our hair down so that we can play outside all Summer, The way our Daddies slip us our favorite candy when nobody’s looking, The way our cousins build forts with us using every blanket, sheet, pillow, and box fan in the house, The way our siblings fight with us, and then beat down anyone else that dare tries, That’s Black Love, Bringing Great-Grandma a plate, While she lays, All 100 of her years, Propped in bed, Celebrating with Grandpa when we caught fishes, Singing songs with our Aunties, While we snapped peas, On the porch in the country, The fire flies we caught in mason jars to light our night side tables, The cod liver oil we had to take when the seasons changed, And the spoonful of honey we ate, To keep the sick away, That’s Black Love, From a moan that became a song in wooden bellies, Plantation revolts, To political revolution, And don’t worry, We know how to get loose, too, Uncle making moonshine in the tub, While we cut a rug, Our parents would even wake us up, To dance for company, And still get up for church on time, Sundays are for choir robes, Burning Sage, Frying chicken, Eating all day, Watching the game, Playing cards, Or dominoes,

And talking shit, With hands raised in praise for all of it, That’s Black Love, When you find the one, Who knows your quirks, Who also made mud pies in the dirt, Whose Mama smacked them upside the head for not making their bed, The one who challenges you to be better, And also anticipates every need, The one I don’t have to ask for a thing, Cause it’s already given to me, The one who understands Civil Rights, And the plight of our People, When I’m having a bad day, And I don’t have to explain a single thing, That’s Black Love, Black Love is revolutionary, Black Love endures, Black Love is understood, Between the lovers, Our hood, Our family, Our friends, Black Love is the beginning, Middle, And end, Alpha and Omega, Aloe Vera on a skinned knee, Cocoa Butter and Shea, Cornbread and collard greens, Turnip bottoms, pot liquor, and bay leaves, Block parties, Debutante Balls and brass bands, Crawfish boils and gloved hands, Black Love is medicine, To ease the hardships of this world, We got us, And love got us here, There is something between us that only we understand, And, That’s, Black, Love

In this season of A BLACK SPACE’s journey, we are hyper focused on utilizing our mission, being a luminous example of how to liberate Black folks through culture bearing, oral tradition, and ancestral craft. As the ED and Found(HER) of this organization, and an artist myself, it is my personal mission to use my craft to see the work of A BLACK SPACE through. Please consider donating, by clicking or scanning the QR code below, to support our newsletter, programs, and emerging community outreach to lend our support where needed. Also, if you ’ re looking to expand your art collection, consider buying some of my fine art prints HERE. Available at M2 Gallery, located in Little Rock, Arkansas. Want more of BLACK LOVE THEATRE?!? Watch our wedding video HERE and follow @blacklovetheatre on IG and YouTube for more content online.