Jay Pritchett

Queer

Closets, Closets, Closets

It’s where we keep our stuff.

Sometimes, it’s where the ones around us, the ones who claim to love and care about us…the ones we also love the most…want us to store, hide and compartmentalize;

the parts that they, their friends, surrounding and immediate communities wants us to keep hidden and locked away. Because it’s more comfortable for them, as long as that part of us is stuffed in there-without a trace, without a say.

Now, the catch is, living here on this island and in this country- even though the doors are welcomed to be open, there’s always someone there dangling locks and keys in your face, when your stuff is too boldly displayed.

Be yourself!-

wait, but not like that…

Your Paradise Is My Hell.

I Suppress Where You Vacation.
Paradise? Nah, been lost. 
I usually keep my hair shaved pretty low on the sides. So I went on Instagram and searched for the least threatening/aggressive/misogynistic seeming barber on island to get a haircut since I had been back home for a while and was long overdue. Found some cool looking dudes. & got some inches off the top and back to the usual, close on the side. In barber terms i'd say probably a 1.Got home to the displeasure of my aunt and my mum, by the looks on their faces, they hated it.
 

part 1:

I don’t like it, I like your hair when it’s longer

-my Aunt




part 2:

Make sure you don’t cut your hair anymore. I don’t like you looking so much like a boy…

-my Mum
According to astrology I'm in my profection year that deals with family and roots. & I'm reminded why I left this place in the first place.

All those years of being away
from these prominent figures and triggers
This trauma and drama
& these closets
& half ass acceptance
receiving whatsapp messages on repentance
feels like i'm serving a sentence
in a picturesque hell
be you; but make sure you hide that gay shit well
lest you be the topic of conversation
in a "christian nation"

I Suffer Where You Vacation

Facing
constant backlash and retaliation
simply for existing
as me
Never free
& if you dare to be- here comes that lock and key

The Voices Of Our Ancestors

QBag, qpoc, Queer, qwoc

Live today…through the vibration of the drum.

All, of our ancestors.” -Voodoo Honey “Elegua” check it out it’s on SoundCloud.

Peace.

So. Im learning that even tho Twitter is so benevolent amd gives me the option to keep adding characters forever and ever ahmen… that don’t mean write a goddamn blog on twitter.com. no. No, Syn. That is the reason amazing sites like WordPress exist, lol. So. I’m gonna do my best to not post long ass shit on Twitter and actually show my blog the love she deserves. Yes, she is a woman. Because duh…women are smarter and superior. The Goddess made it so. Not even a debate.

So. I came here for this:

I’ve never played drums professionally…I’ve probably only played on an actual set of drums…maybe 3 or so times in this life. However. The drum and I…we have an impenetrable bond, I can’t even deny. More so the sound and the vibrations of the drum. I can definitely give thanks to my ancestors from the Ivory coast to the Caribbean for this connection.

I am in pure love with the drum; my ancestors made ours out of goat or sheepskin…& I remember as a kid how my fingers felt the first time I held one. The vibration as I tapped away…it felt as though my hands and my fingertips had done that many times.

& Now as an adult, I can recognize + acknowledge the specific ways that we are always connected to our roots. Give thanks. I always wondered why I was always creating every surface I touched into a drum, lol. I still kinda do. Ok I do…a lot. I can’t help it, & neither would I want to. As they say #veryconnected (got that from The Very Black Project on Instagram) but I love it because it’s so true. No matter how far away i move, what country I wind up in, what city…I’m always and forever connected to my roots and I love that. Hella grateful. Give thanks.