#QueerTalk: Nikky Finney, Pt. II


If you haven’t been with us, be sure to read #QueerTalk: Nikky Finney: Part IWhere did we leave off?.. Right.

The phraseologytenuous business of heterosexuality’ stroke a match to my soul truth in that heterosexuality for me, indeed, was tenuous and so too was having sex with men–in that I rear-view mirror looked back at my life and all of my male sexual relations were never amazingly enjoyable nor did I fully understand what it meant to be sex-positive. Nor was I having healthy equitable sex relation dynamics with men. Nor did I ever have an orgasm with men. I remember vividly having an out of body experience with two separate men, not then understanding why I disconnected heavily beyond my feminist lens of ‘this seems equitable‘, rather than a clarity lens of ‘I am a lesbian and do not enjoy any form of penetration and/or sex with men, having nothing to do with their performance abilities but more so in what sexually works best for me‘. Once I had this astute understanding and clarity around my sexuality, I am now fire in relation to anything and everything Black lesbian related that being in regards to my sexuality narrative to literature to dialogue to vocalizing my opinion on social media spaces around being a lesbian. For Audre Lorde says:

‘That the speaking profits me beyond any other effect,’ which is now my truth after not speaking and investing in myself for equity.”

Being a lesbian is momma’s morning 6:30 a.m. phone call every morning that feels warm. She is calling to check up on her baby, to laugh, fall out, swear, twerk, and listen to her voice sing, talk, hum familiar.

Sharon P. Holland writes in the ‘Black Queer Studies: A Critical Anthology’ Forward whose title is  “Home” Is a Four-Letter Word”in the ‘Black Queer Studies:”

‘The more we saw the more we understood ourselves as backbone rather than anomaly; as producing the very friction necessary for our “culture” to survive. And somewhere in there we learned to be quare (queer), black and proud. Home is a four letter word and the practice of Black queer/quare studies embodies all of its double meanings.”


For you are black girl home sacred to me and I only know you.

How could the universe reprimand a Black baby girl pink walking rapid fire fiercely back to her mother for she is a known hearth as she exists in an unknown unsafe world.

I am home.

All my life my Black lesbian girl self always knew that a Black woman was home for me, that I was drawn to you which led to a larger universal connection understanding of my innate gravitation toward black women as a whole. My penchant for Black women. My reverence for Black women. My humility for Black woman. My sexlove toward Black women. My intellectual stimulation of Black women. My firetouch only wanting a Black woman. My honoring of Black women. My wordcommand for Black women. My puddle jump joy in spite of the rain for Black women.  Home.

Black women are home.

My initial article was  about black feminism, but then my soul universe moved as I heard Nikky Finney’s cool glass water perfect room temperature with green hazel eye lime NPR Talk Nation voice. For Finney once podium told me ‘You never know when a poem is going to cross your way,’ and in this case I say to her ‘Yes, Black Auntie Finney, you never know when an essay will cross your way causing you to dismantle your entire previous one.’ This epic movement lead me to the phrase that I incessantly daily life vernacular incorporate that being Finney’s ‘black girl levitation.’ Salient puzzle peaces from the poem entitled ‘Brown Girl Levitation, 1962-1968′ include

Ascension begins. No tingle or warning, just the of a brown girl, super I could smell it inching closer to full power, like a storm nearing from across the field of my young life. Except, it wasn’t It was inside, gaining on me, blooming. I could grab my girl hat and run. Wherever I happened to be when it hit- I had to hunker down. I would lean hard into that high, with everything I had, carrying my girl mind & muscle to the thing that I knew had been godmother sent, just for me. And there she would appear. Her humming heart in mighty step with the bee wings of july air. The red sweet flesh, the jet eyes, my just in time juicy body weights passed from her arms to my lap, until the great gray wind retreated & agreed & turned me loose, disappearing into the indigo heaven, until the next lifting time.

 As Finney 2011 National Book Award Acceptance Speech closed with “Dr. Katie Cannon, what I heard once haunts every poem that I write, Black people you said were the only people in the United States ever explicitly forbidden to become literate I am now officially speechless,” I honor her spirit and when she retorts to people who ask her when did she write those universe soul snatching 2011 podium words to which she powerfully fire graciously retorts:  ‘I’ve been writing this speech my whole life.’ Precisely.

I, black lesbian girl self-actualized self say: For I too have been writing this black girl love narrative since Wellesley College into my grown full black girl self today. For you knewknow the young black girl who I was and the grown black woman who is. For my held breath rose for you and still does. I everyday am black girl levitation because of who you are and what your lovedlove means to my heartsoul. For I know how to orchid blossom open exhale because of your fire that dismantles unwinds me whole. You are black lesbian love parallel to Finney’s lover who she poem dedicates and writes is ‘supreme watermelon, cantaloupe & pansy grower.’ You pansy grow and cosmos universe birth forth explosions that cause me joy spring mid day.

I, Porsha Eden, Nikky Finney Black Girl Instruction Final Listen and I

“stay hot & create a pleasure that stirs up the world  & become the lunations & locate all my ascending nodes & imitate them remarkable days &

Careful to the very end what you (I) deny, dismiss, & cut away.

I have spoken the best I know how.”

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