This is the beginning! I'm starting this in my fabulous feminist friend Arielle's apartment in DC (I'm so sad you aren't here girl but you are the BEST for letting me stay). I have spent from Sunday until tonight here in DC, staying with an old friend, Smargoil, (thanks for taking care of me and I'm glad I got to see you). On Tuesday I was honored and privileged to meet with Chloe Schwenke of USAID (thank you for taking time out of your incredibly inspiring and internationally changing schedule to meet with me). In sum, I LOVED spending so many days and nights here, despite the heat and humidity--yes, I'm so spoiled by SD--thank the Lorde. DC has been and continues to be a city where I receive love and inspiration in short but sweet growth spurts.
For any of you who by chance are reading this and for some reason don't know, I am embarking upon what I believe will be the most significant academic and activist work of my life. I am preparing to travel to South Africa for a second time, this time alone, to interview queer poets and explore the content of their poetry for my master's thesis. I not only hope to learn about these poets, their backgrounds and their motivations for writing, but also look forward to becoming more informed on what I believe to be the deeply personal as well as political work they are engaging in by writing poetry.
I won't take up too much time here saying it, but I have to at least mention the immense gratitude I feel. I can't explain how indebted I am to all of those who made this possible and inspired me to do this as well as all of those who have/are supporting me financially, logistically as well as intellectually and emotionally--you know who you are, and if I haven't already thanked you, which I'm sure I have, but if I haven't, you know you'll hear it a million times over while I'm there and when I return. When I can return the favor, believe me, I will.
This blog is my first albeit small attempt to give a gift to some of you, my hope being that by sharing this adventure with you all, the ones that I love, and whoever else, you will be inspired in the journeys you are having, plan to have, or may want to plan. May this gift of my sharing my journey be as special to you as I expect this journey and your support along the way will be to me.
So, here I am, the night before I leave the country for 35 days, and as cliche as it sounds it hasn't hit me. I know it really won't hit me until I'm there, that's what happened last time and that was a short trip with a huge group. I can feel my father in me freaking out, going over and over everything that I should have and need to have, making sure it is packed, preparing mentally for all of the airport logistical hoop jumping traveling requires. But, I also feel a weird calm, a cool and quiet on the surface, and the contradiction makes me smirk. I feel like the grown up version of my mom's "little traveler" as she called me, as soon as I got over my childhood fear of planes.
Pre-little traveler era was a time where, dramatic as I was and unfortunately at times still can be (although I've made A LOT of progress), I insisted that planes smelt weird, holding an overly perfumed handkerchief over my face to prevent the inevitable "headaches" and "nausea" that resulted from the smell--in my defense this fear came about as a result of getting very air sick at the end of a flight home from Spain (mostly because of an extended wait to land and the fact that the NJ Devils won the Stanley Cup). Not only did I hold this hanky over my face, I refused not only to sit by the window but insisted the blind remained closed during the entire flight. I would not eat, was determined to sleep the whole time and if by some weird chance I remained conscious past take off resisted thinking positively about the flight to the point where I not only vocalized my discomfort but my mistrust (I may on one occasion have made scary remarks to others).
As a result of living on the opposite coast from family and friends as well as taking part in more traveling and bi-coastal activism and academic work, airports have become a mecca for me now, the place that signals movement for me physically, intellectually and spiritually. At my little beach duplex home in OB where the planes fly so low and loudly they interrupt phone/skype/ichat conversations, movies, TV, music, and anywhere that I hear or see planes overhead I now long to be on them.
When I am lucky enough to travel, I can go through airport security faster than anyone almost competing with the flight attendants and pilots (watch out businessmen and women). The repetitive announcements, security warnings, too expensive airport dinners, safety information, too small seats, terrible magazines, drinks, pretzels, on flight "snacks" and wine, talking and at times lecturing strangers beside me, watching first timers of all ages, unaccompanied minors saying goodbye to their parents, departure drop offs by loved ones, and teary arrival welcomings, are so near and dear to me they feel like lullaby meets soundtrack. Don't get me wrong, I still think planes smell weird, but the way it combines with the coffee aroma at least makes it more pleasant.
This is what I love. Traveling. Movement. Change. Being in the air and realizing how small I really am while at the same time feeling like through movement, through the awareness and recognition of my place however small it might be, gives me the rush of knowing that I can collide, combine and collaborate with something bigger than myself is up to this point in my life unparalleled. Now more than ever, facing the greatest travel journey of my life thus far, I carry inside me an excitement and passion that threatens to double me over at times, but in the face of this I carry it with a strong and strange composure (as composed as someone as bursting with the potential of all of this can be).
I fell in love with South Africa in the spring, and transformative as it was, it was a short and protected taste. I know this time will be different and maybe disappointing as I will be sure to hear and in some limited ways bear witness to the sad reality of the fight my queer activist friends and queer poet interviewees are facing, but all the same I welcome it. This is the first time I will be out of the country completely on my own, and on a content where I found a new part of myself that I am only beginning to step into.
I don't care that it is winter there (which is San Diegoesque winter by the way), I don't care that things might change, or be challenging, or that I will face barriers in contacting and meeting those I've already contacted and confirmed with. I'm open, aware and awake (I will sleep tomorrow on the plane... I hope). Every bit of me is vibrating. I feel restless and as though the blood in my veins is electric . All of me is pulsing for this, even the extreme quiet in my ears, a quiet that aches and ears that want to ring with the voices of the queer poets I will interview, to expand with their stories, their intentions and the content of their creations. This is what I have been waiting and longing for and it is finally here. Here I come South Africa, I know you are ready, and so am I.
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