Precious

Yesterday, Mo'nique received a Best Supporting Actress nomination for her role in the movie "Precious," the film based on the novel Push by Sapphire. She deserved it. Indeed, Mo'Nique, Mariah Carey, Lenny Kravitz, and Gabourey Sidibie should all just be handed Golden Globes and Oscars right now.

This movie was so good and so hard and so raw and so real that at times I felt as if I were a voyeur inside the real life of any number of young women that I see on any given day walking the streets of New York.

Precious deals with a range of issues from incest, physical abuse, teen pregnancy, literacy, HIV/AIDS, poverty, and race. The truth is that the American cinema rarely deals well with ONE of those issues, and most films that attempt to not only address more than one of these issues but also to demonstrate the very real interconnections between these issues and their attendant oppressions, usually the movie falls flat or has to resort to being a musical (Rent anyone?). This movie not only addresses these issues but maintains a realism that for anyone that has struggled with any of these issues, you feel as if your story is being told to you from the silver screen, and it is not always a comfortable feeling.

I saw this film with my friend Kenyon, and at one point, he just laid his hand on my leg in comfort, and I was glad to have him nearby. Watching this film with another person of African descent, someone that I know understands many of the issues discussed in this film, made all the difference. When the two young black women walked out of the movie after a particularly difficult scene, I didn't wonder why. Watching it is not for the weak of heart or for anyone that is not in a good head place and soul space.

But it is a movie that everyone should see. I think what made the movie work, and I came to this conclusion after a Facebook conversation with my friend Cindy, was that everyone in the movie was ridiculously humble. With the stars attached to this movie, it could have easily have become a Divafest. Anyone one of the megastars attached to the film could have out shined the newcomer, Sidibie, but they all understand that the story they were telling was greater than themselves. Hell, to be real, I knew Mariah Carey was in the movie, and I was staring right at her and did not register the woman on the screen with the pop star.

Do yourself a favor. Go and see Precious. I guarantee that no other movie that came out in 2009 is anywhere near the quality of this movie. Prepare for an Oscars sweep.

Book Review: Emanuel Xavier's Christ Like

In early fall 2007, I received a phone call from legendary poet, and my friend, Bao Phi asking me if I would be interested in performing at the October Equilibrium show. I would be opening for a dynamic queer spoken word artist from New York by the name of Emanuel Xavier. Now, if Bao Phi asked me to walk on water for him while carrying a vat of bubbling acid, I would try my best to do it. He has been an immense supporter of my poetry. Also, the Equilibrium series at the Loft Literary Center is the “it” place for spoken word artists in the Twin Cities. The series celebrates the best of the best of local and national spoken word artists of color, the crowd is always live, and it is my poetic home.

I, of course, said yes to Bao’s request. Though I had not met Emanuel Xavier, I knew who he was. I knew him from his poetry, and we both had selections in the anthology Queer Codex: Chile Love. We have an ex-boyfriend in common (shout out to Joe Jimenez of Corpus Christi). I also knew him from the movie “Ski Trip,” where he played a water-downed version of the character Mikey X in his novel, reviewed here, Christ Like. I also knew him from the brutal gay bashing he survived, and I, like many of my community, were pissed off and saddened by the attack.

Emanuel came to town with his best friend and manager, Leo Toro, and we quickly became friends. We went out that night, toured the underbelly of the Minneapolis club scene, and got a little wasted. Since that time, I have been honored to perform with Emanuel, to have been featured in his anthology Mariposas, and to call him a friend y comadre.

Last weekend, I saw Emanuel and Leo for the first time in about a year. They came through my birthday party, and Emanuel gave me, as a gift, a copy of his newly re-released novel: Christ Like.

I finished the book about ten minutes ago, and I decided to review it for you, my readers, here at My Feet Only Walk Forward.

A Review of Emanuel Xavier's Christ Like


As a club kid wannabe that remembers the flash bulb end of Limelight, aka The Sanctuary in Emanuel Xavier’s novel, the opening salvo of Christ Like grabbed me by the throat and dragged me into a ride into the Hell mouth of my own twisted personal history.

From the gate, the sex, drugs, rape, brutality, and vibrancy of this novel lets the reader know that the writer isn’t taking any prisoners. The semi-autobiographical nature of the story adds an extra punch to the groin and leaves you feeling ripped open and exposed to the early morning Sunday sunlight after a night of drugged out partying. Been there, done that, relived it all with this novel.

There are times when the novel comes up for air and the writing becomes rapid fire and surface level. It is clear that the story could use the help of an editor with a keen eye that would give the author a chance to dig deeper in some places, leave some places on the cutting room floor, and give the novel more space to breath and the story to develop.

But the truth is that I finished this book in record time, consumed it in large mouthfuls, and sometimes forgot to swallow before shoving the next bit in. The hard core reality presented and the conscious honoring of the sweet and ugly truth of being queer, homeless, fierce, powerful, terrified, abused, alone, loved, ashamed, and celebrated all at the same time, communicated a stark and beautiful reality. The realness and beauty of it excused the sometimes poor editing and skin-deep storytelling, and left this reader wanting to know what happens next to Mikey X.

Poem: Choke

I wrote this poem about three years ago. A friend of mine at the time was going through a period of significant loss. Her brother and cousin were murdered. Her birth mother died, and her niece was raped all within a year time period. I was living across the country from her at the time, and I watched from afar as she struggled. This I wrote for her.

Choke

It takes her again
wraps stiff fingers around her throat
chokes her until the tears run
burning channels into her cheeks
reopening half healed runnels
coffin-nails have left on her face
she calls me gasping
why
too much
too many
why her
why him
why them
bang bang
they found him in a lake
they found her in a ditch
he was murdered
she was murdered
why
why
why
the violence overshadowed by
the mist that leaders her voice
sodden from her throat
she exhales between questions
I don’t have the answers she needs
the ones she deserves
can’t loosen the grip of too much time
cut short
wrapping around her throat
can’t breath enough for her
can feel the damp
as it pours out of my phone
fills my mouth
runs out of my eyes
mother-brother-aunt-cousin
two killed
unsolved crimes
two taken too early
all died
this year and last year
too few years between them
too little time for healing
while prayers and prairie dirt fill the holes
they left behind
we’ve sat up nights talking
trying to make sense
of senselessness
of grief
of acceptance with no understanding
while the reaper keeps on reaping
scything through native lives
her life
cutting
cold voice laughing
hollow
like lines dug in her face
hollow
echoing
empty
open wounds festering
fearing that she might use alcohol to sterilize
knowing its ability to cauterize
too far away
too far away
to fly to her
pry death away
breath for her when she can’t
pray for her when she can’t
promise her what I can’t
that it’s over
when my promises
are drowned out
by the laughing of the reaper