DAY SEVEN

The 3 site marathon began at Christian Unity Church, with its performance in a two leveled worship center, being followed with a breakfast of grits, sausage, turkey bacon and biscuits---yum! On we went to ASHE, the cultural arts center in Central City, with its cavernous space, first focused on interactive lessons about health, diet and statistics. Then a community sing-in, and then a Teach-in---a multidirectional series of vignettes highlighting the facts of poverty with various stories and situations that highlighted the inequities. The daily tropical rainstorm came in just as this show ended, while we scrambled to eat and get loose before our departure. Finally we, Cohort 3, came to Tekrema, each group focused on a task list that ranged from last minute transformations to intermediary spaces with visual art, lighting and projection, as well as marking off parking on the street with plants hauled from the garden. Excitement built as the crowd assembled outside included curious neighbors, and the immediate sense of community and presence that our house inspires.

 “In this house is all you will need” was the opening mantra and reverberating lesson to all of us, as we presented our site specific dances. Downstairs was an offering space to the ancestors, with a libation installation and candles on the shelves, and surfaces, with its welcoming dances. The Library Room, as we call the one with all the shallow display cases, played out the minstrel show irony  recalling the Willie Lynch papers, outlining steps to divide and conquer black people. The “growing edge” room with its brown paper curtains, with trees, leaves and words that determined “What it is”, and the projections on the ceiling that local artist Ron Bechet had composed for the transition. Shimmery blue fabric introduced a staircase with words of empowerment on each step, and little windows above the bannister, asking questions determining economic level. And then our Bayou Ballet ensued in the magical surrealism of the cypress swamp room, with its hurricane survival and the role of water sounded out with stories told in the words of our dancers. Many people told me that room 's moving story was hard to leave, caught up in its other-worldliness, like a womb they didn't want to leave. Yet, after 6 loops of this, with the cued sounding of the drums, the whole house was emptied out in the street for concentric circles, singing and dancing. Thanks was given to Greer and others, and the work of the Center was highlighted in hopes of help in future repairs of the roof and advancing the vision for that space in the neighborhood. I think ours especially was more akin to a community service--- where we entered, built up and exited the space better than when we left it. I was proud of our collective efforts, and how we honored the space and its founder. We boarded the bus, soaked and exhausted, but after a shower and leftover potluck at the dorm, the party continued back in the studio, with DJ Erich and lots of gyrating hips, soul train lines, and spirits! Dancers know how to party!

LAST DAY

We regrouped for our last cultural sharings, for those who didn't get to offer their ancestral tales....fitting on what most consider the Sabbath. We then shared briefly what we learned about ourselves as leaders and relinquished our offerings from the altar table. I retrieved the copy of the poem my father had in his wallet for years, “Don't Quit” and shared this:

I came in as a general ; but a general commands only silence. I must learn to listen, ask questions, honor, validate and respect the assets of the artists around me, and bring them together.

What I didn't say, was

I--however reluctantly--- AM a gatekeeper, a role that draws a negative connotation of power and money, but really is an influencer, an opener of doors. And perhaps I too have absorbed the self loathing of internalized racism that systems put forward to bring me and others down. I also found my voice, literally having to dance and sing, and harmonize all at the same time.

After that self revelatory moment, present and past Urban Bush Women, paid homage to their founder, sister, mother, and role model, Jawole Willa Jo Zollar, as they celebrate the 30^th anniversary of the company. We then circled and sang, hugged and collected contact information as others drifted off to various destinations away from the space we had shared this long week. I got back to the Quarter, had a swim with Dr. Jaffe, a little shopping in the flea market, and a lovely dinner at a wine bar with them. Doing laundry, watching the Olympics, catching up on the this blog and email, helps me get ready for re-entry into the Bayou City. Here we come, yall-- unleashed to undo racism, and build up our community! Thank you for some tools and the methodology and the heart of compassion and humanity that will entail.