*Content warning: themes of suicide
Oftentimes, I wish for a pure heart
One full of gold and innocence and light,
That dances beneath the silver moon in the air that she breathes.
So free, so elusive, she treads lightly one the forest floor,
Raindrops delicately explode upon my skin,
Tears of the moon for whom I weep with,
Tastes sweet within my mouth.
Complete in my pain, complete in my blindness,
I am no longer afraid, as I am no longer alone.
Comforted by false idols,
And led astray by knowing hands,
I am burnt at the stake before I am able to be born.
Oftentimes I wish for a pure heart,
One full of gold and innocence, and light,
To replace the one that I have been given,
To replace the one I have contaminated.
Filling the old one with bleach and acid,
My throat burns and I choke,
Dying in my own rebirth
Clawing at the flames that lick my body,
And the Earth that muffles my screams.
I am dead, and I am born.
A heart full of gold and innocence and light
Dancing contently beneath the silver moon in the air that she breathes,
Her raindrop tears falling like honey in my sweet mouth.
And as she mourns for my heart,
I continue to dance.
If we can create and nurture beauty, then we ourselves are beautiful.
Throughout history, white colonialism has dominated all aspects of our society, setting a precedent for what is considered ‘fine art’ which consistently excluded Black, indigenous, People of Colour, Women and Gender non-conforming people, queer people, disabled people and sex workers - unless they were the subject, in which they are eternally captured, controlled and depicted the way White cis men wished to view them - stolen, gentrified, fetishised and dismissed.
My performance focuses on the removal of colonial whiteness as the defining notion of beauty; by situating it as the backdrop in which I am able to be more; if I expand my ideals of beauty and art. This concept explores the violence and sacrifice required in the quest for beauty, and the sensual healing one can find in the relationship with the body and themselves. The idea of beauty as an unchanging set of parameters, in which we must force ourself into is unachievable and damaging; beauty itself can offer us so much more outside of these colonial standards. It is due to these factors that I choose to tether myself to my own ideal of beauty, which allows me to be free to constantly evolve and grow in an infinite amount of ways. I choose to highlight the beauty and peace found in returning to self and culture; to realise the shame, anger and pain experienced by all of us, under white supremacy’s manipulated notions of beauty and art. The poem speaks to the desire of needing to be good and beautiful, the changing nature of beauty and the pains and joys experienced in creating beauty.
