‘read’ lips: can I be your legacy?

Since it’s coming to Netflix soon, I thought it fitting to revisit. #queenandslim

If you are reading this, I didn’t survive.  Pushed a bit too far, awaiting your return on the other side. It’s nice here. Better than nice. It feels like love walking, love talking, love growing (never going backwards); it feels like you and me…forever.  I promise, if I concentrate real hard and quiet my mind past the memory of my own mortality, I can hear the pitter-patter of the children we never had; I can feel the relief of a society that finally believed what we did was (w)holy in self-defense; I can dream of a future that never had a chance…know that it was and will be.  Our ancestors have reassured me that you are on your way. “Hush child”, they say. “Worry not. He’s coming to meet you.” They tell me that you’ve stayed behind, hovering amidst those you left, in an effort to provide for them and protect them in a way that you never could in the physical. And, of course I believe them with everything I have, because that is you – my earnest Ernest. In pursuance of love and duty of family in every way. 

If you are reading this know that I really liked you the first time we met. And if I’d had the chance, I would have told the few girlfriends I still had left just how much I felt safe with you. Even before the bargaining of your own pride with a white cop to save us both, even before the shots fired to hold down a rabid dog dressed in a pig’s uniform, even before driving us through the night towards my divided family and away from your intact one. You were so good. Not in a way where naivety could slip between your ears; but in the way where you could still believe. I envied you that a bit; it got under my skin – how you actually thought we could go back. How you needed the comforts of home so bad; not realizing how seeking those comforts would be a sure enough death before even living. I knew that I would have to be your comfort moving on. It was the least I could do. If it had not been for you, all three of us would’ve been dead within 20 minutes of leaving the diner – that devil-ass cop, me…and you. So yeah, I would have to be your comfort and that terrified the shit out of me. How do you give something that you’ve never had? How do you give to something that you’ve never had?  You didn’t require much of me…allowed me to be who I was, never pushed, only pushed back when what I said nudged your inherent wisdom, allowed space for me to speak of my past whenever I was comfortable (and not a moment sooner). Slim, you were…a too good to be true that needed a little edge and the comforts of home.  I hope I was that for you.

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If you are reading this, know I’ve told my mom all about you. She likes to look at you through my depiction; a depiction outside of her own hovering energy. She was with us the entire time. She knew my uncle would make a safe space for us. Though she never agreed with his life choices, she will always be his big sister. And big sisters forgive – they must, in order to survive. She made our bed before we reached his home in New Orleans. She decided on a menu for us coming from off the long drive. She worked on his heart while he slept. Do you hear me Slim? She was with us the entire time…a maternal divinity shed of all the weight of the world stood beside our creator and made a way out of no way. This is how things are done on this side. A walking beside oneself, a walking with one’s legacy, a walking into one’s divinity.  She knew that our salvation hid in the sweaty palms of whore houses, good ‘ol boy trucks & pimp rides, a broken black daughter dressed in all white stained with her own blood, back-yard haircuts, 2 am braid unraveling, modern-day abolitionists who choose to repay their forefathers’ debt, gentrified Underground-Railroad-rigged houses, and black officers having an exceptionally bad day at work. She worked magic for us.

If you are reading this know that my entire life was formatted around a moment that would crash-land into you. I’d been through so much before that fateful night; before swiping right. So much, that the humble pie served by the familiar plump waitress was a welcome taste in my mouth. Feeding me in ways that allow the wounds to heal – turns scar tissue into butterfly wings. You taste like that pie. My body did not stop taking blows for you – the angels here tell me that is of divine design. My thigh absorbing the bullets of fear and willful ignorance, shoulder absorbing the shock of escape from windows on high. And if I’d had the chance, I would have stretched out my midsection many times over for you – watched your fingers as they traced the roads surrounding my umbilicus…retraced the way.  We were going nowhere fast without each other. And I’ll always swear on you. As I crossed over, the light wonderfully concluded in a mirror and there I saw myself for the first time. I saw myself through your eyes. It was the best moment of my life! Though most would say I was no longer living. Most know nothing of life or death.  If she is who you see when gazing at my form…then the saying is true! Thick thighs really do save lives. Together we were wounded woman in the passenger seat, slim eyes and midnight’s skin behind the wheel just trying to make it over a body of water to a place where we didn’t have to hide in plain sight. Together. We were. 

If you are reading this know that the sheriff with Native blood made it home to his son safely. I made sure of it. Know you can indeed…finally…dead the whole ‘ride or die’ antic…been there, did that. Who needs a t-shirt to show and prove when there are angel wings? Know that the cost of freedom is (and has always been)…everything. Know that your true downfall will be a nigga with nothing to lose approaching with a rifle…while you sleep. Know that we never had to be twice as good…ain’t no such thang. Know that my favorite place on God’s green earth was a movie theater – where nosebleeds are the best seats, and the tickets don’t vary in price. Know that the first bullet was from a white man, but the one that killed was from his wife, his daughter, his mother. Know that the entirety of our union was a road trip towards the sea; and my last words were formed into a question asked only to you, “can I be your legacy?” Shots fired, “you already are.”

https://youtu.be/ObMuTSBeLrE

Queen & Slim. Film. Director Melina Matsoukas. Writers Lena Waithe, James Frey. Universal Pictures. November 27, 2019. US. 136 minutes.

Mentionable blogs and articles third-wheelin’ it with Queen & Slim:

• https://marsenae.wordpress.com/2019/12/01/ode-to-queen-slim/
• https://www.indiewire.com/2019/11/queen-and-slim-lena-waithe-melina-matsoukas-interview-1202191741/
• https://crunch0nthis.wordpress.com/2019/11/24/queenandslim/
• https://www.marieclaire.com/beauty/a30188862/queen-and-slim-shiona-turnini-brian-badie-interview/
• ***Feel free to leave me more links within the ‘comments’ or ‘contact’ section. I read a few blog posts that completely miss the mark when it comes to this movie, it’s portrayal of black love, and social injustice (some even written by folks with brown hands). Interesting!***
• https://www.oprahmag.com/entertainment/tv-movies/a29963826/queen-and-slim-spoilers-symbolism/
• https://www.instagram.com/tv/B5ncsHmnPnr/?igshid=1ts87qopbeq58 – Big ups to @klovethepoet who’s piece ‘Revolutionary Love’ spoke tingles of Queen & Slim vibes all down my spine. Let me know how it made you feel.