Yesterday I met Shawn(ta), my favorite youth librarian, in the industrial setting of Lowe's parking lot and the Gowanus Canal. I was early and went for a wander along the oily canal, sat on a bench and gazed at construction trucks tidying up a pile of scrap metal as cars and trains silhouetted the sky on highways traced against a western backdrop of darkened clouds bulging threateningly around the sun. To the east blue skies and fluffy clouds alluded to a wonderfully warm spring.
Shawn(ta) was wearing the dress she'd bought at BAM's Dance Africa Festival the day she discovered the Women's Press Collective. Yes, she discovered, but not like the explorers and conquerors of yesteryear but as the afroqueer of the present. Our lady called out to the universe: "Universe," she cried, "guide me, I need something new. Being a youth librarian, academic librarian, lesbian archivist, story corps archivist, co-producer of Rivers of Honey, a monthly cabaret for women of color, founding co-editor of Her Saturn Returns anthology, queen of okcupid, in a serious relationship and about to embark on a second master's in creative writing, is not quite enough!" She takes a breath, closes her eyes and feels the universe listening. "I need something new. I want a writer's collective. A women's collective, but not queer. Not strictly of color but not solely white women. A working class women's collective, founded and established and running strongly. Something that goes back to the end of the Civil Right's Era, the radical that was born as the nation settled into the material apathy of the 80s."
So the universe gave birth to WPC. An organization of women volunteers who started by helping women farm workers of the UFWTexas put their voices in print. Flyer creation and article writing.Voices that need to be heard are given the support to organize and get others to hear them - hmmm, sounds a bit like Raw Fiction, only larger scale and driven by a real political goal of bringing the socio-economic bottom up to a livable standard so no one can fall into disrepair if they hit bottom. Wow. Good job, universe.
"Asante sana," Shawn(ta) thanks the universe.
At my weekly visit to the BPL youth section, to check out flyers for teens and catch up with the latest from the sexy librarian, I was invited to go meet the women of WPC. Not only is this going to be useful for my project - they have a whole system dedicated to supporting member projects and they offer trainings in using printing presses and software - but I'm going to meet so many inspiring women who are engaged in their own grassroots projects.
The young woman who gave Shawn(ta) and me the orientation is called Courtney, looks early twenties, is super knowledgeable about printing, farm workers, WPC, Sojourner Truth, and living outside the system. She also had really cute hair: messy short twists. She is a full-time volunteer. She receives no wage, eats what is in the kitchen and sleeps where there is a bed on offer. Wow. We stepped back into radical history. There is no religious doctrine to this, nothing cultish, just straight-up badass philosophy. Word.
And they know what they're doing with recruitment. We enter and we're filling out volunteer forms. We leave and we're given dates and times to return. The next step: what WPC can do for us. So I'll be going in at 10am on Saturday morning to talk about my project and learn what they can do to help me. I'm going there to get inspired and, hopefully, to inspire.
Also, the rain poured while we were on the inside and it let up when it was time to leave. Thank you, Madame Universe, you are loved and respected.
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