pugsnpuns:

caricaturesofqueerness:

So I went to see Andrea Gibson tonight. I saw her once before - last October when she came to Wellesley. I enjoyed her poetry immensely - it was less emotional for me this time because I had heard most of the poems a few times (I own all of her albums). The rawness of it was still there, and I remember that Andrea and I share viewpoints about war and bullying, in particular - she just writes about it a lot better than I ever could.

What I did notice while I was there though, was mostly the audience. 

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andrea gibson does her best to be a voice for people who are silenced - whether they are struggling with gender, bullying, war, family, or anything else. she also does her best to promote POC artists, and is aware of her own privileges. but she still takes up space that isn’t always for her. sometimes she doesn’t ask for it, it’s given to her. because she’s white. because she’s thin, masculine of center, and easy to love. 

her show last night was nice. it wasn’t fantastic. it didn’t make me feel solidarity with the queer community, because the queer community present was white. she/berklee/boston/america drew out a fairly homogenous crowd of white, city queers, who share a similar queer aesthetic. i have never seen so many asymmetrical haircuts and autostraddle t-shirts. 

andrea gibson is like macklemore. both of them are trying to be good allies, but in the process of doing so are taking up space and attention in art forms and discussions that aren’t theirs.

 the problem that i have with andrea gibson isn’t actually andrea gibson. the problem, at least for me, is that her fame is a microcosm of society. white ally artists are easier to love than POC/etc. artists, because they’re white and white sticks together. the problem is that she not is given space and attention, but is given it in such a way that it silences other artists who actually have first-hand experiences. the problem is that, because she is so well-known, people who aren’t actively deconstructing their own -isms don’t think to look for other artists, and just continue to perpetuate the gospel of gibby. 

i love andrea gibson’s work. but she is not different than any other white artist in spoken word. she’s still a face in the sea of white faces.

This ^^

So I went to see Andrea Gibson tonight. I saw her once before - last October when she came to Wellesley. I enjoyed her poetry immensely - it was less emotional for me this time because I had heard most of the poems a few times (I own all of her albums). The rawness of it was still there, and I remember that Andrea and I share viewpoints about war and bullying, in particular - she just writes about it a lot better than I ever could.

What I did notice while I was there though, was mostly the audience. 

Read More

andrewgibby:

she said

you will never be let down 

by anyone

more than you will be let down

by the one

you love most in the world

it’s how gravity works

it’s why they call it “falling”

it’s why the truth

is harder to tell

every year

you have more

to lose

but you can choose

to bury your past

in the garden

beside the tulips

water it

until it’s so alive

it lets go

and you belong to yourself

again

you belong to yourself 

again

likeafieldmouse:

Andrea Gibson, Shine

andrewgibby:

Loud. Loud. Loud

for the unbelieved

 

I check my facebook page 3 times a day

for the sole purpose of making sure

I have not accidentally posted a nude photo of myself.

I read my emails 14 times before pressing send

to ensure I have not written something in the email

that could convict me of a crime.

Before taking the stage

when asked if I allow flash photography

I always want to say NO

because I’m terrified flash photography will give me epilepsy.

I know it doesn’t work like that.

Still,

I never eat nuts on an airplane

out of fear that I will suddenly develop a nut allergy

and if I have to asphyxiate

I don’t want it to happen at 30 thousand feet.

Twice in the last two years

I’ve been de-boarded from a plane

for running screaming down the aisle

as the plane was taking off.

I can’t walk through San Francisco without worrying

my indigestion is the beginning of an earthquake.

I brace for tsunamis beside lakes in Colorado. I’m not joking.

The last time I saw Niagara Falls- I couldn’t take it. 

It was too much much.

I had to plug my ears to look at it

I had to close my eyes to listen.

Generally, I can’t do all of my senses at the same time….they are too much much.

Like if you touch me without warning, whoever you are,

it will take everything I have to not hate you.

Imagine your fingers are electrical sockets

and I am constantly aware that I am 99 percent water.

It’s not that I’ve not tried to build a dam.

Ask my therapist who pays her mortgage.

My cost of living went up at 5 years old

when I told my mother, “I have to stop going to birthday parties

because every time I hear a balloon pop

I feel like I’m being murdered in the heart.”

A few years ago a balloon popped on the stage where I was performing.

I started crying in front of the whole crowd.

I plugged my ears and kept repeating the word, “Loud, Loud, Loud.”

It was super sexy.

That’s what I do….I do super sexy.

Like when I ask the super cute barista 11 times,

“Are you sure this is decaffeinated.

 Are you sure this is decaffeinated? 

 Are you sure this is decaffeinated?

 Are you sure…”?

Yes. I drink decaffeinated and still jitter like a bug

running from the Bright, Bright, Bright.

I once spent four years wearing a tight rubber band hidden beneath my hair

so my brain could have a hug.

These days when no one’s looking

I wear a furry fitted winter hat

that buttons beneath the chin,

and I only ever wear a tie

so when I convince myself I’m choking

my senses have something they are certain they can blame.

As a kid I was certain I would die

by way of meteor falling on my head.

I’d go whole weeks without looking up at the sky

because I didn’t want to witness the coming of my own death.

I started tapping the kitchen faucet 7 times

to build a shield. - - - - - - - It worked. 

I never got touched

by anything that left a mark

that anyone but me could see.

See, all of my scars are crop circles.

They said I snuck out in the middle of the night

and put them here myself.

They were not right.

And the only thing that hurts

more than being hurt

is being hurt and not believed.

It makes everything inside you

think everything is the enemy,

til you finally decide Fear-

Fear is your only ally,

is the only thing that will consistently show up

with a plan to keep you safe

every second

of every minute

of every day.

My friend is really pretty. Also this is an awesome tattoo.

onlyslightly:

AT THE DAVID FRIEND RECITAL HALL ON BOYLSTON

TICKETS ARE $14

WHO’S GOING WITH ME

Lily and I already have tickets!!