like the fat of pigs; rendered through trauma.
a testament to generational wounds’
affront on nubility
again – a try at cyclic repetition
away from things
all else –
I've found myself
the people there
with no faces
and no depth
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A Black person with a short 'fro is outside, naked, back to the camera. They are facing a thicket with wayward branches and leaves. Their right arm is outstretched.
About Deveney White:
Atlanta-based agender/queer photographer who specializes in natural, ephemeral, timeless moments. Lover of the cornflower blue crayon, 90s culture, Lisa Frank, and social justice/human rights. They daydream frequently and play the ukulele. Follow @deveneywhite on Instagram.
About N.F. Stratton:
N.F. Stratton is an American writer that explores aspects of pain correlated with the Human condition. Stratton most often toes the line between romance/love and malignant obsession as a means of highlighting one of the greater Human tragedies.
I know that I am good enough. I am whole. I am beautiful as I am. I am love as I am. I look in the mirror and see the spark in my deep brown eyes that reflects all the love I feel in my heart. I’ve come Black to Peace. Black to Power. Black to Love.
Dissociation makes perfect sense when folks have constantly been abused, silenced, socialized a particular way, oppressed, and constantly have had boundaries broken, or don’t even know what their boundaries are.
It took me a long time to adjust. To re-adjust. To redefine. The moment I started to speak in a language for myself, that was crafted around the way I want to understand myself, the clock began moving at a pace that felt eternally sacred.