(day 3 of writing 101)
music. it’s a constant companion. it makes my body move. i use to be afraid that i was afraid of silence because i nearly always want music playing. but i notice that i move my body based on what i’m listening to. or i maybe i listen to music to move my body in specific ways. when i want to move with defiance, purpose, and rebellion three songs come to mind:
with the opening guitar cords i imagine slamming the door of all institutions, of our cultural malfunctioning expectations of how and who to be, and saying enough! and i just start walking. i walk away from it all. it’s no! in motion. its my fuck you! and the lyrics touch on all the reasons. shoulders back, head up, body leaning into forward motion.
takes me back to those childhood days of trying to walk away from all the crap that kids are told they have to be or should force themselves to grow up into. so i imagine that little kid stuck in a small town in kansas, exploring the little creek down the street, preparing to walk away. then i strike the pose of a kid in defiance.
this third song is a reminder that in the revolution there is no hero. we are all strong and we are all flawed and the knowledge and reminder of this last part just makes us stronger. once again, the song is a reminder that i did not make the rules that society tries to force upon us, and the more marginalized we are the more rules that are forced down our throats. more to the point, if you are black in this country, its bullets in your back and you don’t even know what rule you broke except walking down the street. so this song i listen to as a reminder that we can’t have some other person singing and speaking and shouting. we must walk out of this insanity together if any of us are to make it.
music is just one of the many tools out there that can possibly help us rise up and find our strength when we need it. art in all it’s forms and shapes and volumes will help gather us all in solidarity. it can help us see the uniqueness in each battle while we draw on the common cords that bind us at the intersections of injustice and equality.
so now… i’m going for a walk