Southern Legitimacy Statement: Work, labor, and economy have been areas of focus in my art practice over the last several years. Before I began my journey as a visual artist and educator, I worked blue collar jobs in the printing and manufacturing industries. Manual labor, the daily grind, hustling, however you describe work and employment, says a lot about a person, their culture, and where they “fit” within the social constructs of their community and society. These themes relate not only to my own story, but to the larger narrative of how the Deep South was built from Reconstruction through World War II and how people are perceived and valued today.
Three Poems
First Fruits
Day after day, the white pick-up truck stops at the same corner
The same bodies hop in the back
They lean against the cab as they ride in the bed
Loose tools and rope sliding with every turn
When the truck stops, they know it’s time to get to work.
This year they’ll yield carrots and turnips
Collard and mustard stalks
No clock to punch
They arrive at day break and leave when the sun last blinks
Picking food their mouths will never taste
Inhaling aromas their lungs will never embrace
Their fingers will break and blister, bleed and sweat
Hoisting the first fruits of their labor
Reach and pull
Bushels of harvest, a handheld cornucopia
Imitating Dutch vanity paintings
Images of succulent green
Orange and violet roots bursting with eternal life
Row by row they work the field
Spilt blood christens what will later touch our lips as we set to gather in our homes
Sweat drops from their noses, baptizing their sacrifice
Open palms will receive cash in hand
A day’s wages, but not enough to sustain
No bank account
Or place to call home
When the day’s done, those same bodies will jump back into the bed of the truck
Dropping them off at the same corner
One will assist the other out
Hand kerchief covered in debris
She’ll shake it off
They’ll embrace
Each going their own way
Hoping and praying
They’ll petition for the other to make it until morning
Marked safe from raids and looming deportation
Into the shadows, they creep and hide to survive another day
Sojourner
Leave the edges of your fields for the sojourner
The perimeter, it is for them
Pluck and eat
Miles, he has traveled
Yet, many more footsteps to go
Dust licks his boots
The sun beats down, never relenting
This celestial body holds back grace
No shade or mercy
He crosses himself before he sets out early each morning
Through ridges and ravines, he plods his course
Across rough, rugged terrain
Resolve carries the sojourner
Dreams (or Premonitions) about better days
Determination ferries him over every pass
Working here, laboring there, a bite to eat, a bed to rest
Will it ever come?
Rest
Land of the free – that’s what they said
Home of the brave – that’s what they sang
But is there rest for the weary?
Along the horizon lies the contour of a great city
Purple and amber mix
Creating lavender structures in the distance
Muscles constrict as his strides lengthen
Awaken, tired bones
Let hope arise
An ecstatic mirage belies his view
Leviathans reveal their nature when he approaches (at his approach)
Scales of rot and decay
The sojourner, the migrant, the deposed
All opportunity has dried up
Freedom parched and cracked
Hostility meets him at the border
Walls, fences, watch towers
Barriers prevent his entry (passage)
A nation insecure
Formerly immigrants and dissenters and sojourners
Ensuring safety for itself
Failing, they’ve destroyed the edges of their fields
Denying the pursuit of the ever-perishing, enigmatic dream
Pluck and eat (withered and limp)
Still More Pressure
No matter what tactics they use
Or the way they treat your body
Still more pressure
The lies they use and the stories they spew
Skewing the truth of the matter
Still more pressure
You can’t effect change without pressure
Press hard
The change you make is dependent on
The amount of torque you’re willing to apply
In the end they will break
But still more pressure
Press, and not just down
Press with all you got
And when you can’t press anymore
Turn it up
Still more pressure
