“The 26th Project”: Rebooting a Writing Project

In 2007, with my friend Antonio E. Johnson, I began a whimsical writing experiment we called “The 26th Project.”

We began by exchanging a list of 26 words beginning with a different letter of the alphabet (from A-Z) and, using these words, we each wrote a short story.

From this humble beginning I set a goal to collect lists of 26 words from 26 very diverse individuals from around the world – gay, straight, multicultural, multi-ethnic and from different socio-economic backgrounds – that would celebrate the diversity of imagination.

Like most projects, this one got off to a great start but got bogged down by LIFE. So I am rebooting this project and encourage you to send me your list of 26 words and let’s see what stories they tell.

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The Secret Society of Twisted Storytellers “Storytelling Slam”

And the winner is – ME!!!! The theme was “Stand Your Ground” and I told a story about standing my ground in support of the city I love Detroit, MI, in support of building community by supporting local businesses and in standing your ground for respect as a consumer. An eclectic field of ten storytellers, but in the end there could be only one -winner that is – and I am so honored to be that winner.

The Secret Society of Twisted Storytellers (TSSOTS) was created by award-winning performer and actor Satori Shakoor. TSSOTS has a global mission and purpose to connect humanity, heal and transform community and provide an uplifting, thought-provoking, soul-cleansing entertainment experience that is unique through the art and craft of storytelling. In Detroit on the third Friday of the month? Come experience TSSOTS at the Museum of African Am erican History.

 

 

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Back to My Future (a poem by Michelle E. Brown)

I don’t want to go back for my future

But every time I try to move forward

I run into the same old lies

The same old games

Flirtation, seduction, titillation

Words that promise

Touch that thrills

Brand new smiles

Telling same old lies

Detours, road blocks, hazards

Turning me around

Impeding all progress

And in my rearview mirror

There’s you

You fit like a comfortable old shoe

Like that big comfy sweater

With patches on each elbow

 

The cottage in the country

Porch swing rocking gently in the wind

Quiet, stable, solid, you.

But I don’t want to go back to that future

Thoughts, ideas, dreams stunted

Smothered in your all inclusive love

I died a little each day in that past

Back there with you.

After you, I took a deep breath

Awoke from the coma

Returned to my life

Picking up the pieces

Moving forward

Moving on

I don’t want to go back for my future

But every time I try to move forward

I find only darkness, only despair

The futility of today’s transience

Broken spirits, empty promises

Chance encounters on hot summer nights

Evening spent drinking as the bar gets ready to close

Damaged goods, excess baggage

Others trying to move forward

Weighed down by their past.

I want to go back to that promise

That promise of the past

Those quiet romantic evenings

Candle lit dinners, champagne and bubble baths

Deep thoughtful, heated conversations

The art of making love

I guess I want to go back to that future

To move forward, to start anew

And there you are in my rearview mirror

Quiet, stable, solid you.

Reminding that with the bad times

We’d shared a few good too

Rays of light amidst all that gray.

Maybe I can go back for my future

To move forward, to start anew

I want to go back to that promise

I want to go back to that future

I just don’t want to go back there

With you.

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Road to Equality Still Runs Through the Ballot Box

VRA: When The Dancing Stops REALLY Protecting Our Equal Rights

On Wednesday June 26th, I was driving down “the Lodge” (M-10 to you non-Detroiters) listening to NPR, of course, specifically “The Diane Rhemes Show,” waiting to hear the Supreme Court’s decision on DOMA and Prop. 8.

Like most members of the LGBT community my stomach was in a knot, but my stomach was in more than just a knot it was in a double half-hitch with a twist knot as I was still reeling from the Supreme Court’s decision the day before gutting the Voting Rights Act.

If they would gut this Act that sought to ensure protections for voting rights at the polls for every American, I wondered if the same court could muster sufficient votes to stand for equal rights for LGBT families.

Then it came, the news we had all dreamed, dared hope for, decisions for marriage equality on both DOMA and Prop. 8.

I screamed, tooted my horn, then breaking my rule of not calling/texting while driving, called my good friends Donna Payne at the Human Rights Campaign who has been working for marriage equality nationally, and Susan Horowitz at Between The Lines who had spent many days and nights in the trenches with me on Prop 2 in Michigan.

These decisions weren’t everything – marriage for LGBT couples is not legal in most states – but the walls had definitely started tumbling down.

By the time I reached downtown Detroit, I had shared numerous celebratory horn-toots with cars sporting equality stickers. Sitting at an outdoor café, I watched with a grin as same-gendered couples walking, with eyes glued to their smart phones, let out a little whoop then reached out and walked the rest of the way hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm.

Every two seconds I received a text or tweet from friends and family. I even heard from people I barely knew but who had stood with us on the cold January day in Lansing when Michigan enshrined discrimination into the constitution believing as King said that “The Arc of the Moral Universe Is Long, but It Bends Toward Justice.” and today it had bent for equality. It was a good day to be gay in America.

And could the timing have been any more perfect, the ruling came in June as we celebrate pride in cities across the country.

It’s been great seeing jubilant couples in California again exchanging vows; seeing Edie Windsor jubilant in victory and leading the New York Pride parade with co-Grand Marshals Earl Fowlkes and civil rights icon Harry Belafonte; and  even though I don’t have a wedding (or a date for that matter) on the horizon I could not be prouder.

My country, the United States of America, had affirmed that major statement on human rights within the Declaration of Independence – that in marriage my LGBT community was also endowed with “certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Oh happy day – but maybe not because I wear this Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat woven with threads from the intersections of race, class, gender and sexual orientation.

The day before a very big thread in my dream coat had got snagged by the same Supreme Court with implications that could set back our march for equality and that snag was the gutting of the Voting Rights Act.

I am first and for most an African American woman. I didn’t have do anything other than come out the birth canal to be identified as such and subject to discrimination based on the very fact that I was born this way. I am also proud, out member of the LGBT community.

Even though the formula struck down by the Supreme Court in Section 4 of the Voting Rights Act had, as Chief Justice Roberts said in his bench statement, extended a 40-year-old coverage formula based on “obsolete statistics” it had protected voter’s most at risk for being disenfranchised or denied their right to vote.

I can’t help but wonder how many LGBTQ people of color who gained recognition with the DOMA repeal will now face discrimination in the voting booth? But it’s more than just a Black/White, Gay/Straight issue. How many women, including Lesbians, will be denied access to reproductive rights if voting rights can be skewered by partisan politics?

Want a glimpse of the future, just take a look at Texas where gerrymandering and challenges at the polls threaten to disenfranchise Latino, African-American, the poor and whatever other group is not in favor (like pro-choice/women) voters.

Want a closer glimpse; you need look no further than Saginaw County in Michigan where the Supreme Court decision cleared the way on to dissolving the Buena Vista school district.

The ultimate battle for equal rights will take place in communities, municipalities and states across the country at the ballot box. We must change hearts and minds one person, one vote at a time and not leave equality hanging in a SCOTUS balance.

It’s up to us. Time to Gladiator-up community! We will never have the full freedom to marry without the freedom to vote!  Congress can reverse the effects of the court’s decision on the Voting Rights Act.  Get involved by visiting freetovote.org, The NAACP, NOW, PFAW, HRC  or NBJC to name a few -BUT DO SOMETHING!!!

Today I’m doing my happy dance for marriage but I’m gearing up for the real fight.  Let’s protect every vote so when the dancing stops I won’t find my Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat unraveled and all of our rights flapping in the wind.

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Message for Mandiba

Every day I read another report on the condition of Nelson Mandela or falsely claiming South Africa’s beloved Mandiba has died.

I can only imagine his thoughts as he lays in that hospital bed – having done so much and knowing that there is so much yet to be done. Seeing the sadness and grief not only in his family’s eyes but on the faces of everyone who comes in to visit from nurses to dignitaries. He is Mandiba, father and like any family elder it is hard to let them go, hard to imagine life without their presence.

My aunt “Little Nanny” was 94 when she transitioned. She was the last one having out lived parents, siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins. She was the family matriarch.  Life without her seemed unimaginable.

After each trip to the hospital she’d look at me and say “I’ve been to the mill and back. Never thought I’d be here this long.” As the trips to the hospital became more frequent, when we got back home she would look at me and say “Michelle, we’vebeen to the mill and back. How many more times do you think we’re going to make this trip?” I’d smile and say “as many times aas you need to make it.”

And like the proverbial comeback kid, each time the doctors said this was the last time, and everyone would gather around to say heartbroken goodbyes, Nanny would take a look at all the faces and decide to hang in there just a little longer. She’d tell me “Gwen needs to get a good car.”  She’d ask “How is Fred really? i can tell he is not feeling good.” “You think Terrance and Karol will make it to the altar?” And looking  at me say “Who is going to take care of you Michelle? I’m sorry all this landed on your shoulders. We sure have been to the mill and back.”

About a month before her transition, Nanny and I had a talk I told her that her family was going to be ok and all that she had stood for would go on gave her peace of mind and we spent that last month in a love fest of hugs, kisses and laughter.

That last night in hospice, as she struggled with each breath, I kissed her forehead  and told her it was ok if she wanted to go home to be with her mom, dad, sister, brothers and husband. We had been to the mill, but this time I could go back by myself and it would be ok. About ten minutes later, Little Nanny drifted off going home to be with the ancestors

If I could visit Nelson Mandela I would kiss him on his forehead, thank him for everything, promise to continue his work. He has been to the mill and back many times but now it is time for us to pick up the message, and continue the work. I wish Mandiba safe passage home to the ancestors. Rest now mighty warrior.

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