he morning Ernesto died and a glittering cloud of debris and ash swallowed the neighborhood, Beth Gopin was on her way to see him. Beth had called Ernesto and asked him to meet her at Taj Tribeca. Although Beth and Ernesto enjoyed the atmosphere and well-stocked buffet, Taj Tribeca held greater significance—they could link major moments in their life together to its golden linens and paper dining mats.
Beth will one day tell me how she first met Ernesto at Taj Tribeca. She was on a blind date with someone else, a Junior Vice President at a fiduciary management company. When the conversation had begun to include words like portfolio management, estates, big account, and mutual funds, she excused herself from the table and said she needed to use the bathroom. As she snuck towards an exit to abandon her suitor, Ernesto approached her. Beth remembers accepting his card. He asked her to call him if things didn’t work out with the guy she had come with. He thanked her and then quickly sped out of the restaurant.
Beth will tell me she waited weeks before she called him. She’ll say she called because of curiosity, not attraction.
Read the rest of the post here: “Memorials” by Donald Quist
The Waynes and Johnsons: Albemarle County, Virginia, Circa 1862 and Beyond
In 1840, Claude Wayne exerted his God-given right to his property when he relieved himself inside a slave wench named Norma. The resulting child was his, hazel eyes glinting green in the sun, a mongrel if Wayne had ever seen one. Couldn’t stand to look at him. Sold the mutt to Johnson first chance he got. He sired an heir with his wife the very next night. Twenty-odd years later, those boys stood to shoot one another dead. One black, one white—each a rifle-musket aimed at the other, not knowing they share a daddy. Moist, mudded red clay ran burgundy around their feet, mixing one dead soldier’s blood with the next like that through the veins of brothers. Each man stared into the hazel eyes of the other as if looking inside their own.
It is that hazel shade that will confirm the relation of two women over a century later in 2016, a Wayne and a Johnson, stuffed like creamed French toast inside an IHOP booth. The distant cousins will avoid eye contact, not knowing what to say, if words could even be sufficient. Surprised at the way God’s sense of humor manifests, that theywere matched via DNA from an ancestry website—of all things—they agree to meet, for what reason, neither will know. Will this encounter change their lives? There will be no weddings, no funerals, no cookouts, no showers. No more family than any Wayne or Johnson in this part of the world. But, they will shake hands and sit, exchange stories of growing up in the country, even realize they went to the same high school, their churches only a mile apart. They will watch one another, disguise their curiosity, their mutual examination of shared features, under lowered eyelids and genteel sips of sweetened ice tea with lemon.
Read the rest of the story here: “The Waynes and Johnsons…” by Tyrese L. Coleman
From Black Speculative Arts Digital Archive
1. What was the inspiration for the creation of “MotherShip: MotherVerse”?
“MotherShip:MotherVerse” was conceived as part of a public Afrofuturism exhibit entitled “The MotherShip Connection.” Poet, Community Builder and Afrofuturist Olu Butterfly conceived this idea and asked me to be one of her collaborators. This was an opportunity for us to mount an exhibit at Artscape, which is the largest outdoor public art festival in the U.S. The Mothership Connection allowed us to connect the work of some of the amazing artists here in Baltimore with the community. The title of the show is obviously a reference to the famous Parliament tune as well as their now enshrined stage prop. Olu however had a different concept of what a Mothership could be – she was interested in portraying the Mothership as a more organic structure, something earthy yet capable of travel. This involved us building an actual ship. Inside the ship, we decided to have a screen that depicted travel, gave a brief primer of Afrofuturism and then told a story. So I took on those tasks. I cobbled together a primer, which was okeydoke at best, but then I really got hooked on creating a short that extended Olu’s original vision. Toni Morrison has a quote that says “Black Woman is both ship and safe harbor.”
Read the rest of the post here: Jason Harris in BSADArchive