diosA

artist, writer, goddess

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printmaking
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i was such a cute kid in the third grade, all my teachers loved me.

a week before this photo was taken, i cut my hair without my mother’s permission.

i knew it was wrong but i didn’t care

despite the consequences, i have always moved with my instincts

my mother on the other hand, did not care about my heart’s desire when she saw the asymmetrical bangs i gave myself

she was heartbroken.

i had such long, thick hair. how could i do that to myself?

in memoriam of those fallen strands, she kept them in a plastic baggie in the first drawer of my childhood dresser

we have always been the sentimental type.

you wouldn’t have been able to tell my hair was cut if i hadn’t told you.

that is because presentation always mattered to my mother.

she got it from my Nana....

....and passed it down to me.

the women in my life were the earliest and most influenticial examples of black womanhood.

they taught me how to dress, speak and carry myself.

embedded in me is a piece of their respective experience.

my mind wanders a lot,

i can only concentrate on what i am invested in.

sometimes i wake up with words in my head

i release them

i let them breathe

i go through journals like tea bags

i only second guess myself on paper.

my grocery lists are calligraphy practice

cursive is faster.

i find great comfort in escapism.

if we lived in an ideal world,

i would live in this house in Majorca, Spain.

i would listen to my favorite songs all day

thinking of you,
sister sledge

miss camaraderie,
azealia banks

preservation,
eartheater

stay flo,
solange

lovers rock,
sade

harlem river drive
bobbi humphrey

i felt love,
blue hawaii

something about john coltrane,
alice coltrane

i am your mind pt ii,
roy ayers

choppa won‘t miss,
playboi carti
(feat. young thug)

i would host lavish garden parties,

cut my own bangs,

move with no sense of urgency,

lounging like my grandma in the 70s.

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