The 26th Project: The list that began it all

This is the initial list that Tony and I exchanged back in 2007 and the crazy short story that resulted.

  1. Amsterdam
  2. Blind
  3. Crazy
  4. Dawn
  5. Edify
  6. Fracture
  7. Giddy
  8. Homage
  9. Infantile
  10. Jaded
  11. Klondike
  12. Lesbian
  13. Marsupial
  14. Negro
  15. Operatic
  16. Palestine
  17. Queer
  18. Radical
  19. Scientology
  20. Truncate
  21. Utopia
  22. Vixen
  23. Whimsical
  24. Xenophobe
  25. Yearn
  26. Zygote

My arrival on earth had been delayed by an unexpected brush with a meteor storm soon after passing Venus.  My destination Alaska where I would meet up with other members of the Interspecies Liberation Movement to get the revolution started on another planet – Earth.

I was dressed for the frigid landscape of the land of the midnight sun in midnight blue leather, of course. A leather jumpsuit with matching parka trimmed in silver fox and my signature six inch stiletto boots. Ok, not your traditional Klondike attire but stylish, totally hot and totally me.

I was all ready to step from my glitter capsule into the crisp Alaskan air but when the hatch opened I found myself, instead, smack dab in the middle of Amsterdam’s red light district at dawn. As the sun rose in the sky its rays reflected off the garish windows of the brothels and sex shops. The glare left me blind.

This was crazy!! I was in Amsterdam. There was no radical queer community waiting to pay homage to an intergalactic vixen preaching interspecies rights. Instead of throngs of worshipers chanting my name in sweet operatic tones I was surrounded by dirty old men in trench coats and drunken tourists stumbling in and out of the shops and brothels – so inane, so infantile.

No revolution here. Just crazed Dutch boys that didn’t want to vibe on my message, they only yearned to cop a feel on my muscular, chocolate, 6 foot 8 inch frame.  I lifted the flap on my pouch and pulled out a pair of silver framed sunglasses.

“Look Hans” one of the Dutch boys shouted “I don’t think she’s just a Negro. I believe she’s one of those interspecies hybrids.” A crowd started to gather. All of them watching, pointing, and getting a little giddy.

I cleared my throat and spoke. “Listen up folks I am not a neee-gro. I am a Black Lesbian Marsupial with a message for you. It’s a message about Utopia. If you care to listen?”

They kept mumbling and staring. Finally a short red-haired stud stepped forward, grabbed me by the arm and said “I feel you sister but these are lost causes. Let’s get out of here.”

We slipped into the coffeehouse at the Van Gogh Museum. “What happened? I’m here in Amsterdam and nothing. Where’s the love?”

Maxie, the red-haired dyke, told me that every since Tom Cruise had moved to the Netherlands and started throwing around Scientology doctrine and more importantly money there was a fracture in the community.

“So that’s why they’re so jaded – Scientology. Well I’ll be damned” I said

We left the café and headed toward my glitter capsule. I pulled out my astral map to chart a course for the nearest commune.

A trench coated xenophobe whipped open his coat and flashed me. “Want to play girlie” he slurred and reached out to touch me.

Just then a location lit up on the astral map – Palestine. As I charted my course I felt the jerk’s hand on my shoulder. I spun around and kicked the little weirdo, knocking him flat on his ass. “My back! You broke my back! I’m paralyzed” he screamed.

I scanned his body with my x-ray/CAT scan watch. “Quit whining you zygote. It’s not even fractured.”

I started for the Glitter capsule again. Ï heard footsteps running behind me. It was a band of queers “Wait! Wait! We yearn for Utopia. Take us with you” they called.

I could have turned around and given them a lecture but I needed to get to Palestine. There was no time to edify the masses now so I did the next best thing.  I said, “Get on board. I’ll tell you on the way to Palestine.”  We all climbed into the capsule, battened down the hatches and took off for the Promised Land.

We landed in Palestine an hour later. I had changed in to a hot pink leather mini dress with matching stilettos. I fluffed up my afro and opened the hatch. My motley crew and I were welcomed by the sweet refrains of the liberation anthem. The weather was hot, crazy hot and the sun reflected of the desert sand was blinding.

A sister from my home planet stepped out of the crowd and gave me a big hug. She was dressed in an identical leather mini-dress and stilettos only in lime green. “What kept you sister Yar? The Klondike team froze their butts off waiting for you” she said.

“Well I could tell you the whole sordid story but our “peeps” are waiting. Do you mind if I truncate?” I asked.

“Truncate! I like the sound of that. Truncate, my sister, truncate.” Xena said with a whimsical smile.

I gave her the reader’s digest version of my trip including the meteor storm and my stop in Amsterdam.  “Scientology! Wow!” she said at the end of my story. “I knew it was out there but it’s becoming a frigging cult.” “With Tom Cruise as its leader, the revolution can’t start soon enough” I said.

“Who are they,” she asked pointing to the wide-eyed, scraggly group standing close to the capsule. “They’re cool. Met them in Amsterdam and they came along for the ride,” I said. I let Maxie do the introductions.  Pretty soon everyone was talking and smiling.

I cleared my throat to get their attention. “That’s right, all eyes here,” I said. “Now that we all know one another let’s get this party started.”

“The sun’s pretty bright out there” Xena said as she put on her sunglasses with lime green frames completing her outfit. “I hope you brought some shades.”

“Am I not a Black, lesbian marsupial” I asked unsnapping the flap over my pouch and pulling out a pair of sunglasses to match my hot pink ensemble. We looked at each other, smiled then hopped towards the city to preach interspecies liberation to the believers waiting at the commune in Palestine.

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“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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