#you too were probably indoctrinated into an ideal because you can’t think critically

[adorabledaylilly]

So angry at a white man on Twitter I want him crushed and ground up by a train

[meandmyechoes]

The more I think about my first romance novel, the more I find something odd.

[28th March 17:46]

I keep referring to it as a ‘favourable experience’, and there is no question the writing is what made me fall totally head over heels about quin tress, but I also just, can't?

I mean, yes. It's very passionate, dramatic, scenes and gestures I can only dream of. And it's all very bisexual and fantastical of me. But I also, don't really see it in that 'omg they totally belong together here are my sixty headcanons of them' sense?

I am very involved in the pairing, but also don't really, actively 'ship' it — like the way I have the ability to with Rhayme or Latts (since it's the same author that indoctrinated me to Captain Rhayme). I could imagine them being happily ever after and silly shenanigans and slow-burn. But the concept of a quin tress fairytale ending is so wild. I can only ask if this has to do with my personal view on relationships. Does this tie back to how I say the hottest thing a heterosexual couple can do is fuck (and the spiritual experience is emphasized with a same-sex partner)? - anyway, ace brain (probably) speaking.

I know the plot leaves little room for 'the future' and fed me well on all tropes possible. But, it just never occurred to me to put them in any other clichés or invent a missing scene.

Winding up, I don't think their relationship is 'weak', but it's very motivated by circumstances and once you take that out of them, you are a little bit lost. For example even during the illicit affairs month, I… can't really propose one date that does not seem tonally insensitive. (I can think of them being cloak dorks and Vos bringing her to ice-cream, that's it, after a long hard moment) Really, all I possibly want is that sweet, sweet angst and canon is already there so I have no complaint.

It's just… I don't really get why it has to be the two of them that fall for each other. I understand why they did, and I believe it— Perhaps it's much more a physical attraction thing that I don't really have personal experience with.

I don't know if quin tress classify as slow-burn because 10 chapters still seem a little quick in the grand scheme of things. (aside: I'm quite disappointed Ventress wasn't doing much in the last quarter of the book.) My point is, they do feel a little bit puppet to tropes, and while it's deliciously written, there's not much potential outside of canon. And that lack of inspiration makes me grimace a little.

[3rd April, 01:39]

I’ve scrolled through the dd tag and let the book sank a little. I am better articulated to talk about the sexist criticism now.

It's a romance story, and when I judge it by that (lower) standard, it ticks the boxes. However, it might be a weakness as well, due to the projectability of the heroes. And yes, the whole assassination is dumb. Yet, tcw has been consistently this dumb at us. The last two times when she's more rooted in the dark she failed, sent Savage and failed, so she's gonna do it again with Vos… after she put down her desire for revenge. right. ans surprise! Our "assassination" plan is to find Dooku and duel him directly. right…

I've read a review that says the romance takes away from the plot. However, the romance IS the plot. The book IS supposed to revolve around the two of them. I do agree them becoming begrudging allies then partners is a more unique approach, more rewarding as foils as well. but I guess a romance is easier for the convention to process ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

With the "Ventress lose agency in falling for Vos". Now, I can't dictate how each of us buy into their physical attraction and chemistry (or lack thereof), and there's no denial that a conscious human being is making that choice for the fictional character, I think the stance on this topic is really tinted by the above two factors, which are very different starting points.

I kept Katie. Lucas's foreword vividly in mind while reading. She said this is a story about people seizing chances to rebuild. That there's always a choice. Cliché as it is, I believe ~the power of love~. I believe there exists someone you're willing to sacrifice everything for, to overlook everything for, to forgive - to love them, warts and all. So, yes whether you think Ventress loses her agency to the romance, or if that's a conscious choice on her behalf, is swayed heavily by how much you buy that they are the one.

[10th April, 10:30]

So Mr. Partner has finished the book too. He didn't offer particular insights, but we discussed briefly the overall pace and bits of characterization. He did made me rolled with laughter describing Vos through a childish, tropey lens. Regarding the topic of this documentation - the quin tress relationship, I've been more or less really enjoying it as a guilty pleasure. I don't read romance novels at all, and this is tooth-rotting sweet angst. 

Yesterday I’ve been thinking a bit more about this. I do love this ship, I just don’t believe they’d be two people who find each other again and again in every life time, in every universe. That’s why, as magnificent as fireworks, it also won’t last.

It's very nostalgic to indulge in a heterosexual relationship, and pair it up with taylor swift songs. If I have a boyfriend as devoted as Vos, I'd fall one hundred percent. And if I'm faced with an bombshell like Ventress, I would not be able to have any agency I swear. Either way, in my headcanon, Ventress is happily away on adventures with Lassa :3

To explore this, it’s not entire impossible for quin tress to separate peacefully after this incident, but would that cheapen the build before? The entire motivation of dark!Quinlan hinges on his vision of their future. And say, Ventress did saved him and survived. How would he balance being a Jedi and his feelings - that’s publicly exposed to the Council? (sidenote: i really don’t like Ch. 27 where a bunch of old men are questioning their love life, but uhhh yes, I’m a sensible person!) For now, I’m seeing another Obitine situation. And honestly how bad that an outcome is. It’s not like Ventress died for her war crimes! The show gave her a full pardon! So Idk man. Why can’t she leaves him because she loves him and she exiled herself and they never see each other again WHY NOT FILONI WHY NOT.

Now I’m lamenting more what could’ve been with the two arcs. In Filoni’s original sketch, Aayla and Maul were involved. Man, that could’ve been the dream. I skipped to translating the last two chapters and all the way I was just fuming at how stupid it was. There are difficult technical terms but I really enjoy voicing the characters. But it just takes away bit of that formality and Shakespearean tragic factor having them talk in my native tongue???? haha

Prelude: [12th March 22:37]

since dark disciple heteronormatively gave Rhayme and Ventress boyfriends, I'm gonna go ahead and sign the charter that says "all sw characters are bi"

which got me thinking, I insist that Quinlan and Ventress must fuck (and I insist they did, with the implication from when Quinlan "had seen her by starlight, just her"), but why didn't I think that way with Rhayme and her? Maybe it's because the story never pushed me there. I'd wish it indeed have more to do with I'm aspec than internalized homophobia (that I look down on everyone), but I also think, fucking is literally the hottest thing a heterosexual relationship can do? Every selling point, either be appearance or intellect, leads up to the ultimate goal of reproduction?

But oh my god, space lesbians, beating up pirates, sharing a wine, teasing hairs and finger tips. That's so goddamn romantic

[edit: i know that is an extremely skewered and unfair view, but i’ve met maybe, one, boy on my intellectual level. it’s a game of probability ok]

~~~

Part 2: [26th April, 15:15]

It has been… a month, since I finished Dark Disciple and I feel like it’s time to conclude all the thinking this book has made me do.

On the wider reflection about attachment and the Order, I still have to do more reading on it to form a concrete opinion. This theme won’t be touched on in this post yet, but I cannot shake how intriguing it is to compare “falling” in love to falling to the dark side. The temptation, and the submission to their emotions, the irrationality, the newfound curiosity, it all incites. Very curiously, it was Anakin. Skywalker who commented that one is “blinded by love”

Okay, so what I’ve been scratching my head off the past two weeks is how I look at the romance between Asajj. Ventress and Quinlan. Vos. How would I define it?

Now this is as much as an exploration of how I view romantic relationships. Well, I’ve decided it wasn’t “love”, it was an “affair”. It was an affair because it’s a rush of passion, it’s a secret, it won’t last. Before I chop my own head off for bluntness, I mean it in, of course they are hopelessly in love with each other, that’s the exact premise of why it moved me so. But it wasn’t a complete relationship, wasn’t a healthy, sustainable one by any objective standards. Then, that’s the exact contradiction. Oh to throw caution in the wind with you, or to build a future with you?

Both are things I want a lot, and the ideal is of course one after the other. What quin tress had (in the end) is definitely not something I’d want for myself, but it’s so fantastical, it’s alluring, just like the concept of falling in love - opening up yourself and trusting another person, is - it’s risky. That’s why it’s a sweet, sweet drug.

I’ve been so angry at all the red flags in this relationship. Reading this book, getting into both of their shoes, yelling NO like their best friends. But ultimately, what they had is unique to them and I can’t influence it in any way. Re-reading, I find myself holding myself back at all the places I was furious about going ‘You are smarter than this!’. Because it’s a tragedy, and the beautiful thing is they chose each other (I guess).

The other day something on the dash inspired me to really think about ship dynamics. I, unashamedly admit, I’m VERY into Obi/Quin/Ventress in any and all combinations. *cough* I will not explain further.

Aside, the elephant was I’ve never been in a relationship or felt physically attracted to any person in my life. I suppose that’s a reason it took some time for me to really buy into them more than friends. I do accept the premise and I did discover they share quite a bunch of traits, but it confused me a while what made them cross the boundary, and it was, physical attraction (that the book was selling so hard I was blushing hot). But what really frustrates me, not that I couldn’t invest into two paper people’s love story, but was why my body is governed by hormones so bad. I could say things I wouldn’t dare depending on the day of the month. I have to be honest, I love them both a lot, and I would like to date them both, and I can see myself in either of them. Again comes another contradiction, is it a good thing to have characters so easily projectable, or do I want to see myself in more complex characters like them?

I probably lost quite a few cars stalling this train of thought. This book brought me a lot of emotional upheavals and a lot of food for thought. It brought me down to reflect on my romantic worldview and sexuality because I have nothing better to do. It totally challenged me as a writer and it’s just a really good novel by its right, regardless of the absurdity that is The Clone Wars. It’s a lot of firsts for me. And I really should find something better to do.

[racismisasickness]

The following are the unedited notes I used for a talk I gave earlier this week at Widener University.  I was invited by the Women’s and Gender Studies department to be a featured speaker during Women’s History Month.  The title of my talk was “The Photographic Journey of a Sista Who Is Not Alright, But Fights Anyway.” Thank you to the faculty, students and staff who attended and had such thoughtful comments to share afterwards over dinner.

My name is Tieshka Smith…I am glad to be speaking here today.  

 I was born in Chicago, Illinois, a town founded by a Black man.  Many years later, I ended up in Philadelphia, the birthplace of American democracy.

 I am a 44-year-old black woman photographer trying to make sense of 21st century America.

 I love the United States of America. It’s the only home I know.  

 Unfortunately, this country, America, the only country I know, doesn’t really love me back.  

 Why? It’s quite simple, and this is probably not much of a shocking revelation to any of you here today.

 America doesn’t really love me back, because it doesn’t recognize or acknowledge my humanity.  It views my brown skin tone as a threat.  It brands me an enemy of the state, less than human, deserving of its scorn.  It sees me as a target, ripe for exploitation.  

 When America makes mistakes, and man, it has made some big ones, it finds in me a ready scapegoat. Black women are too loud, too single, too welfare-y, too fat, too...everything, and too...nothing.  

 I’m angry. Confused.  Disappointed.  Tired.

 I’m angry that I allowed myself to be indoctrinated to believe all the crap that spewed from the mouths the people I trusted – my parents, my teachers, ministers, and others – all of whom said that success and love and happiness and peace of mind would be mine if I worked hard, stayed in school, held on to my virginity until I found the right one and trade it in for lifelong fidelity and honesty from a young man (of course, that didn’t happen, and of course, it had to be my fault).

 I was told that the best path for me as a woman was to get married, have some kids, make a home, work my way up in the world, and gave back to my community.  Did they know better, or did they do and say the same things that their parents and trusted adults said to them?

It’s neither here nor there for me today.  

 The fact of the matter is this:  America lied.

 After all of my blood, sweat and tears, I have nothing to show for it but a failed marriage (of course that had to be my fault too), strained relationships with my children, student loan debt, stretch marks, high blood pressure and questions.  Lots of questions.  

 Yes, I have questions. Like, why haven’t I had a good night’s sleep in 20 years?  Or, why do my best ideas for presentations like this, come together at the very last minute (trust me, it never, ever fails)? Deadlines take me back to my days of being an undergrad...all nighters are no fun.  I’m sure you can attest to that.

 Seriously though. The main question that keeps me up at night, the one that I have tried to answer over the last seven years that I have occupied space in this world as a human being, as a woman, and as a working artist is this: Why would a country like America, which extols values of exceptionalism, achievement, elect somebody like Donald Trump?

 What does it say about us, as Americans, that this man – a man with no political experience (which, by the way, was said about President #44 – he had the sense to know that he would be criticized in that way and at least tried to get some political experience under his belt) -  was able to parlay a false narrative around his “accomplishments” as a real estate developer and reality TV show star into “winning” enough Electoral College votes to become leader of the entire free world?

 This man whines incessantly about how many people showed up to his inauguration, while carrying on about fake news...he has the nuclear codes, y’all.  If you haven’t let that sink in yet, you should.  

 And why would do people who blissfully lived in an alternate universe (thinking that police brutality aka one frightening form of unchecked state power was no big deal) up until November 9, 2016, expect that now that they’ve finally woke up, ready to fight, that somehow, people like me, who have been fighting, speaking out, working hard to resist, as best we could, unchecked state power for years, have enough reserve mental, psychic and physical energy to fight pernicious and evil forces like Donald Trump?

 To be honest, to do battle with Donald Trump is to do battle with America itself.  

 Let me repeat that. To do battle with Donald Trump is to do battle with the very essence of what America stands for.  

 Why should I do battle with people who support Donald Trump? 53% of those who voted for him were White women!  On top of that, something like 12-18% of his voters were Black Men!  Many of his voters were White college educated men and women.  They voted for him in secret as to not be ostracized or shamed by their more “progressive” family members and friends.

 So to be perfectly honest, I don’t even know what a Donald Trump voter looks like.  There could be people in my own circle who said that they voted for Hillary Clinton and could be lying to my face.  To be really honest, all of this makes me not want to fight, and on top of that, makes me extra anxious and stressed out, because the enemy that can do the most damage is the one that you can’t see.

 Why should I fight alongside people, who, until very recently, had no problems maintaining their deafening silence in the face of state sanctioned brutality and inhumanity, all to prop up a lie?

 Why is it human nature, to hold on to the status quo until it is absolutely, fundamentally necessary to be disattached from it, kicking and screaming, because Rome is burning and the men in our lives took things too damn far?  

 I have a lot of questions.  

 The question I want to pose to you today is this:  In light of this, and in spite of this, why can’t black women and white women get our shit together?  How come it took a scoundrel like Donald Trump to understand that our shared liberation is bound together?  Why can’t you see yourselves in me and those who look like me?

 I don’t have the answers to any of these questions.  But I can show you what I learned over the last seven years, through my photographs, photographs of people in a place that gave birth to freedom and democracy, that someone forgot about people who looked like me.

 Philadelphia – the City of Brotherly Love and Sisterly Affection - is full of contradictions and wonder and pain and struggle and joy and humor and irony.  But Philadelphia, if I may be honest, is the boil on America’s ass.  It represents America’s failure to ensure that its democratic ideals – all men and women are created equal – could be realized by everyone. We have a level of deep poverty here unrivaled anywhere else.  Our school system is a cesspool of incompetence and corruption.  We’re completely okay with the police stopping and frisking Black people on the street, even when we know that we’re violating their civil and constitutional rights.  I can tick off many more examples of Philadelphia’s failure to live up to America’s democractic ideals, but I’m sure you get it.  

At any rate, I’ve said this in my writing and I try to convey it in my photography:  If Philadelphia can’t get democracy right, then America is doomed.

 Today, I will share what I learned over the last seven years, lessons that led me to liberation and understanding, photographs that I hope will spark something within you that willl motivate you to make a new friend, consider a new idea, do something outside your own comfort zone, anything that will free you from your own mental shackles. We all have them, it’s what happens when you live in a society that is okay with exerting unchecked power over you and me, and telling you that it isn’t.  

 At this point, I’m not showing you my work in the hopes that it will change your mind.  I’m not asking you to love me or my work.   I’m not even asking you to like me or my work. I’m asking you to see me, the way that I see myself.  I’m asking you to see Philadelphia, our birthplace of American democracy and the resilence that runs deep on its streets.

 I’m also asking you to see what you will inherit and how much work needs to be done and how the old ways don’t work so don’t go into the world and try what has already failed. That’s called insanity.

 I’m asking you to see the people who live and love and live some more even when society tells them that their lives and emotions are worthless, irrational, out of bounds, and that the world would be a better place if they just disappeared.

 I’m asking you to face your fears.  Your arrogance.  Your selfishness.  Your pride. Your shame.  I’m asking you to humble yourselves.  

 Because time is running out and the longer we resist the need to clean our collective dirty laundy, the need to heal our wounds, to talk through and course correct the direction in which America is going, you will lose women like me. You cannot win this fight alone, those of you who are newly woke and on fire, who maybe have marched for the first time and are social media warriors.  

 I can’t speak for other sistas ( I realized this the other night as I was doing my evening workout) , but I can speak for myself and believe my photographs are a proxy for the voiceless.  This sista will keep fighting for the women and girls in my photographs but I don’t have much left for those who have enjoyed the luxury of not really having to fight, until now.  I’m tired of speaking up when others have opted to stay silent while blood, drawn by law enforcement, ran red in the streets, when Dejerrica Becton was tackled – for no reason – by a cop who had a chip on his shoulder, who was called to the scene by a White person, whose colleague took a black young man off camera and beat him bloody for no reason...

 What my journey has taught me, is that many of the sisters I know – White and Black and all of the shades in between – know and understand that our men are broken and by extension, the systems they’ve created to maintain their privilege as men are broken.  They and their systems of opporession are broken and fragile and toxic and despite it all, we love them anyway.  But they really don’t love us, some of our men.  They will – and have – come together as a community, mainly online, finding common ground because of their shared masculine identity, lashing out at “the women.”

 They have no problems setting aside their racial differences if that means strength in numbers to fight what they perceive is an existential threat to their very existence:  Feminism, womanism and equal rights and treatment of those who identify as women.  These men truly believe that a man like Donald J Trump can “Make America Great Again.” They think it’s okay that our 45th President once said it was okay to grab a woman by the pussy, or at the very least, what he said was no big deal.

My journey as a woman took me into the depths of these realms and when I came up for air, I realized that we as women were cowed, shamed, into submission.  We bargained away our freedom for a false sense of security and comfort.  Is it worth it?

 As I take you through my photographic journey, I want you to see what I see:  women and girls of color, poor women, women who were invisible to you (and to me, too) until it became necessary to get your numbers up for a fight to preserve your sense of security and comfort.  

 Ask yourselves, is your sense of security and comfort worth it if those at the bottom who fight, whose lives are very acts and testaments to resistance and resilience, will never have access to the same level of security and comfort you enjoy? What are you willing to sacrifice?

 What is your vision now that you know for sure that Donald J. Trump and his minions care nothing about your security and comfort? He has made his priorities unequivocably clear.

 Think about these questions as I take you on my photographic journey...

[Run through slides of images from Jersey City/Germantown/BrewerytownBroad and Erie/Racism is A Sickness/American Awakening] 

…I wrote in December 2010:  “I believe dreams are the stirrings, rumblings and nudges from the restless corners or my subconscious mind…gently reminding me that I’m still alive and have so much more left to do and see...”

 We must be mindful that in order for the American dream to live on, it must evolve and change.  

 It is my hope that you are all able to recognize and embrace your dreams, despite the nightmare we find ourselves in.  It is my wish that you all seek and work toward the liberation of every single woman you know and don’t know...because when the least of us aren’t free, none of us are truly free, and America can’t continue to live a lie.

 Thank you.