At some point in our work together, I often have my clients write an “I am from” poem about themselves. As I do not ask my clients to do anything that would not be willing to do myself, here is mine…

I Am From

I am from Janet Elizabeth and Herschel Marcellus AKA Skip AKA Duck AKA Slim

I am from black panthers, black power and sisters circles

From jumping rope in the middle of the street

From block captains, foot races, fire hydrants

From playing outside until the streetlights come on

From Rita’s water ice and soft pretzels in the summertime

I am from vegetarians and meat eaters. I am from soul food

I am from struggle. From chains. From whips. From deep roots in strong soil

I am from negro spirituals. I am from music.  From dance and from drums

I am from cornrows, picks, afros and extensions. From hair grease and hot combs

I am from Africa. I am from America. I am of unknown descent.

From a country, a village, a language long since forgotten.

I am from creation. My own language, my own music, my own style.