Almost.
slash
Maybe.
This past Saturday, June 8, 2013 Raw Fiction (season 1 or season only) had its goodbye brunch a week before the website is due to air its first set of publications.
We met at historic Spain Restaurant with its historic bar tender and I ordered far too much for everyone. We feasted on Paella Marinera, Chicken and Rice, Shrimp in Oil, Paella Vegitariana(?), Fried Calamari, Meatballs and complimentary dishes of the best mussels I've ever put to my mouth. There were the youth participants, the mentors, a participant's mother and a director's friend.
My dear friend, Shawn(ta), your lesbian separatist librarian, who came was coming direct from her Lesbian Herstory Archives table at Brooklyn Pride and had a gift for me (this is in front of my youth that she does this). She sifts through her bag with a grin on her face. I get to choose which gift I take. She extracts a very used book of short stories by Becky Birtha and puts it in my hands. I can either have the book or . . . and then she reveals a small silver paper bag . . . I can have what's in the Babeland bag. Of course I turn bright red (remember three of my 18-year-olds are sitting right in front of me) and choose the book. Thanks, Shawn! But seriously, that's what (one of the many things) I love about her. Her confidence and freedom in her own sexuality and sex positivity. Young people NEED to witness that.
The table was divided with youth on one side and adults on the other. Conversation, likewise, was divided. However, at one point in the discussion Darwin asks "Do we even need to know history?" I grab the pass and toss it to the youth. The table becomes a discussion of ideas. From Wide Sargasso Sea to (re)writing history with perspectives and agendas to professional goals.
Pictures were taken outside of Spain Restaurant, hugs and goodbyes but not forever, I hope, and good luck on finalizing the publication, kiddies! Raw Fiction dot org will premier participant writings and some pieces from the general public on Saturday, June 15.
Below is a copy of my goodbye words to my team:
I have spent the week thinking about appropriate parting words and have come up with profound ideas and important messages [on the importance of literature and the meaning of inclusive citizenship]. I have written nothing down.
Always carry a pen and paper with you. Or a technological equivalent - a tape recorder, videocamera or your phone. Document yourselves so you don't have to scramble for words on a wild 3 train before a closing ceremony.
Raw Fiction was born out of a lot of ideas simmering in me with little to no outlet. I was in grad school and I didn't want to be. I was in Brooklyn and I didn't want to be. I was in a rapidly gentrifying Brooklyn that was selling its working-class, black, Jewish and immigrant soul to huge developers. People and businesses were being pushed out under the lie of economic growth for everyone. I saw a future of corporate menial labor jobs with little growth opportunity for youth forced into uniforms that reflect not only a sameness of image but a uniformity of thought.
Raw Fiction was born as an idea to help me juggle my emotions against change and as a way to investigate creating an arts project for teens that incorporates real world skills. A project to empower youth in their identities, provide an outlet for their creativity and challenge them to think and do for themselves.
I couldn't have done it alone. The adults sitting around this table represent a portion of all of the individuals I reached out to, who gave technical support, positive feedback and lots of encouragement. Thank you [and I went around the table and thanked Darwin, Charity, Tanisha, Shawn, Olivia, Barbara and Will for all they did and are doing to help me with Raw Fiction]. . . .
Raw Fiction was also a very simple convergence of my two most compelling career options - literature and youth. Raw Fiction would be nothing without the youth participants who have given it life, shape and definition.
Thank you [Cha-Lisa, Nisha, Ruth, Karen and Amber and then I gifted them each a book that I had pulled from my shelves that morning] . . . .
***********
The End [of chapter 1?]
