definitely not calm (through audre's work)

This one has many different forms/revisions and shifts when I slam it, but it is substantially the same. I first wrote it after working in Boston in 1990 on a cele-conference for Audre Lorde. -- KJ


I.

i was so angry today.
i was angry today
because i was so calm.

and i don’t understand
how i can be so calm,
not today,
not this month,
not this year,
not this decade.

how can i be so calm
at a time of such pain and suffering?
maybe anger is not my only retort,
but definitely not calm.
maybe rage,
joy,
action,
celebration,
tears,
pain,
action,
but definitely not calm.

not when people i don’t know
are dying,
violently,
not by their own wishes
but by the greed of others,
other men,
other white men,
other straight white men,
other straight white rich men.

bastards.

definitely not calm.
because that’s what the bastards are.
calm.
never letting on,
never showing their fear,
the bloody-eyed rancid stares
of arching, singular fear.

definitely not calm.

but dance,
but shout,
but scream,
but write,
but laugh,
but sing,
but definitely not calm.

i don’t want to be calm.
people i know are in pain,
are in trouble,
are at daily risk
to their daily lives
and i can’t remain calm
in a situation where screams
and laughter
are the only true option
of sanity,
of humanity.

not calm.
i am not calm.
iamjoyous.
iamfilledwithrighteousrage.
iamfullofanger,
fullofsadness,
fulloftears.
amjumpingskippinglullabying,
but i am not calm.
C – A – L - M
that’s what i am not


II.

how shall i move,
how shall i let this move me,
compel me,
i mean,
move me with
my sisters and brothers?
move me strikingly,
move me with vision,
move me with forethought,
with afterthought,
with recognition,
with determination,
with endurance
for things for which i have no vision or thought.

i do not mean move me forward,
in a straight line,
in a line predetermined,
in a calm line…

I DO NOT MEAN CALM.

i mean
dancing,
circling,
laughing,
raging,
outraging,
crying,
caring.
not calm, but excitement.
not calm, but determination.

do it with my sisters
and with my brothers,
do it with my people
who are my people,
who are my own
because i am different than they,
and they different than i,

because i will move
through my racism,
my ignorance,
my fears,
i will move
with determination
with endurance
i will stand with my sister,
and with my brother,
as i risk,
as they risk,
as we stand together
with pen & brush,
with skill,
with hammer & harp,
with voice & heart & hope.

III.
there is something here about trust.
in our desperation,
what else could there be?
what else will there be
but trust
when we have nothing else in common?

where oppression is born,
at its core: a misshapen
and cruelly concrete center,
there is no bond,
no link,
no trust.

to build trust is to move with my people
to trust is to quash the bastards.
to earn trust is to stifle the calm.

so outside this master’s house,
i strive to build trust,
to build trust with people
i do not know,
with people i fear,
because this
the master
would never
allow.

i strive to build trust,
to not recoil
permanently
when i am held accountable
for my white,
my middle class,
my oppressive ways.

i will not be bitter
when i hold my sisters
and my brothers
accountable
for their racism,
their sexism,
their homophobia,
their economic privilege.

if we can stretch,
stretch with determination,
stretch with pain,
if we can stretch without knowing
that we will reach each other in the end,
only then have we taken
the real risks of trust,
only then have we built a home
where the master’s house
once stood.

(cc) Karen G. Johnston