Having to literally sit and go through my past experiences and what I felt at the occurence of the happenings wasn't an easy thing to do but it had to be done if I wanted to change where I was at the time. No not geographical location but where I'm at mentally. Where are my thoughts and whats the general make up of my emotional intelligence. Am I where I think I ought to be at this point in time in my life?
And what came of my 'session' is that I'm made up of all my 'stuff'. Past hurts, anger, let downs, dissapointemts and all other junk. One can never run away from their experiences, once in a while we'll lie to ourselves and say "such and such a situation does not define me".
In my case that has all been a carpet pulled over a ticking bomb, a bomb threateing to destroy my very being. Truth is I am my stuff, its mine though and excuse me if it seems like I'm tryna lay all that is me on you, its just so heavy but it is my stuff. Thinking of it in that manner made me go back to Ntozake Shange's work, oh how I love this woman work. He thoughts, the way she relays her happenings in such a real way is beautiful. Even though me and her haven't been throught the same shit I just understand her and connect with her work. It must be a libra woman thing, or better yet an October 18 thing that we have hahahaha.
Here is one of her offerings to colored girls without a rainbow.
somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff not my poems or a dance i gave up in the street but somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff
like a kleptomaniac workin hard & forgettin while stealin this is mine/this aint yr stuff/ now why don’t you put me back & let me hang out in my own self
somebody almost walked off wit alla my stuff ; didn’t care enuf to send a note home sayin i was late for my solo conversation or two sizes to small for my own tacky skirts
what can anybody do wit somethin of no value on a open market/ did you getta dime for my things/ hey man/ where are you goin wid alla my stuff/ to ohh & ahh abt/ daddy/ i gotta mainline number from my own shit/ now wontcha put me back/ & let me play this duet/ wit silver ring in my nose/ honest to god/
somebody almost run off wit alla my stuff/ & i didnt bring anythin but the kick & sway of it the perfect ass for my man & none of it is theirs this is mine/ ntozake ‘her own things’/ that’s my name now give me my stuff/ i see ya hidin my laugh/ & how i s it wif my legs open sometimes/ to give me some sunlight/ & there goes my love my toes my chewed up finger nails/ niggah/ wif the curls in yr hair/ mr. louisiana hot link/
i want my stuff back/ my rhythms & my voice/ open my mouth/ & let me talk ya outta/ throwin my shit in the sewar/ this is some delicate leg & whimsical kiss/ i gotta have to give to my choice/ without you runnin off wit alla my shit/ now you cant have me less i give me away/ i waz doin all that/ til ya run off on a good thing/
who is this you left me wit/ some simple bitch widda bad attitude/ i wants my things/ i want my arm wit the hot iron scar/ & my leg wit the flea bite/ i want my calloused feet & quik language back in my mouth/ fried plantains/ pineapple pear juice/ sun-ra & joseph & jules/ i want my own things/ how i lived them/ & give me my memories/ how i waz when i waz there/ you cant have them or do nothin wit them/
stealin my shit from me/ dont make it yrs/ makes it stolen/ somebody almost run off wit alla my stuff/ & i waz standin there/ lookin at myself/ the whole time & it waznt a spirit took my stuff/ waz a man whose ego walked round like Rodan’s shadow/ waz a man faster n my innocence/
waz a lover/ i made too much room for/ almost run off wit alla my stuff/ & i didnt know i’d give it up so quik/ & the one runnin wit it/ don’t know he got it/ & i’m shoutin this is mine/ & he dont know he got it/ my stuff is the anonymous ripped off treasure of the year/
did you know somebody almost got away wit me/ me in a plastic bag under their arm/ me danglin on a string of personal carelessness/ i’m spattered wit mud & city rain/ & no i didnt get a chance to take a douche/ hey man/ this is not your prerogative/ i gotta have me in my pocket/ to get round like a good woman shd/ & make the poem in the pot or the chicken in the dance/
what i got to do/ i gotta get my stuff to do it to/ why dont ya find yr own things/ & leave this package of me for my destiny/ what ya got to get from me/ i’ll give it to ya/ yeh/ i’ll give it to ya/ round 5:00 in the winter/ when the sky is blue-red/ & Dew City is gettin pressed/ if it’s really my stuff/ ya gotta give it to me/ if ya really want it/ i’m the only one/ can handle it
-----By: Ntozake Shange.
