MY HEART ENLARGED

One of the pluses to turning these contracted books into a trilogy (which I guess is still kind of secret) is that in figuring things out for the final stretch of draft 2 of Dead End Boys, I’m also figuring things out for Book 3. Lemme tell ya: don’t get too attached to them socks you got on, because they are coming OFF.

As I type this, I’m sitting in my second-to-last class of the quarter—last one of this penultimate week. This is Theorizing Black Genders and Sexualities, led by Dr. Marquis Bey, who is one of the best instructors I’ve ever had in my life. Bey is just one more example of why I decided to come to this program. They’re such a heavy hitter, such a deep thinker, who conducts themself with warmth, erudition, and grace. For my final project, instead of a term paper, I’m writing a short story I’ve had on the boil for a long time.

The reading and discussion material of this course have given me the theoretical, philosophical, and sociopolitical understanding I need to make the story what I needed to be. Sometimes all you need is a little education to get you over that hump. I’m being a slightly bad student by typing this now, but oddly enough it’s helping me listen and engage, and I just have to let out how excited I am to bring new ideas and new theoretical heft to my own work. This is one of those moments when I am bowled over and humbled all over again by the enormous privilege it is to be in this place at this time.

Yesterday, we had our last meeting of Tara Bett’s Spring quarter poetry workshop. Instead of meeting in this room—where I have had all my classes this quarter—we convened at Cupitol in Downtown Evanston, and man, the three of us had a TIME. This was another course I was amazed by and grateful for. I first encountered Dr. Betts’ poetry when I reviewed the Afrofuturist poetry collection, The Future of Black for my Chapter & Verse column. Getting to know her socially and being taught by her is a joy—and, as it turns out, she was the first-ever poetry teacher of one of my all-time favorite comics, Langston Kerman. You can find some of his very solid poetry online even though he doesn’t have a chapbook or a collection yet. I guess he’s too busy doing standup and appearing on shows Insecure, and The Boys, and doing his ridiculous podcast with David Gborie (My Momma Told Me.)

(The book we’re discussing is A Body Made Home by Kai Marshall Green, BTW, which is amazing trans memoir that is helping me better understand and empathize with the transfolx I treasure in my own life, but as I am cis, I feel like my main job during this session is to listen.) There’s a LOT I recognize in this Black Trans story, though, and I’m also fascinated with the way it fuses theory with practice with poetry with prose.

This weekend, we’re having (my) first-ever Nebula Conference here in Chicago. I’ve got a panel on plot on Saturday at 10am, and Kechi is going to be doing her hummingbird thing, flitting around taking photos. Tonight we’re kicking things off with a party put on by Mary Anne Mohanraj, so that’s definitely exciting. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone, but not looking forward to figuring out how to do my final school work during the con. Hopefully, that won’t be too much of a nightmare.

Also on the con front (and this reminds me that I need to update my website, great Gawd) Kechi and I will be attending the GenCon Writers Symposium. I have learned in the best way that if Maurice Braoddus is doing a thing, it’s best I show up if I possibly can. So we’re going!

As I wrap up this entry, we’re on break, and my classmates are talking and laughing together. This is a room full of creative, joyous, learned, and curious Black folx and POC, and I’m just overwhelmed with love and gratitude.

NOTE: If you’re interested in these blogs, they go up a lot more consistently on my Patreon. Check it out!