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About GirlrillaVintage the Blog

PEACE! I’m Gracie Berry, a Black-Afrikan, queer, cis-woman, community root-healer/educator, multi-dimensional creative, womanist and owner of GirlrillaVintage. As a griot, its important to the integrity of my work that I share my life’s experiences and messages in a ways that honors my ancestors and comes from an Afro-diasporic centered view point before any of the margins. Showcasing my art, activism, autochthonous Afrikan-spirit, my story, vintage, words. Community roothealer. Here to love and liberate my people. I founded GirlrillaVintage in 2010, an Afrikan Roots & Empowerment Organization that shares Afrikan cultural diaspora content, events, and perspectives through the offerings of education, expressive arts, spirituality, vintage aesthetic, and workshops. A creative platform that uplifts Black and Brown communities, lineages, narratives, and stories, and uses compassion and creative problem solving to empower and reawaken possibility in and around my community. Visit my website at www.girlrillavintage.com

Embracing My Ugly

Red Foxx said, “Beauty may be skin deep, but ugly goes clear to the bone”. Had someone recently ask me, how I “deal” with #adultacne. I replied that I don’t lol! They explained, apologetically in so many words about how their skin is tied to the center of their sense of self and couldn’t understand where my confidence comes from without having #flawlessskin skin. I thanked them for sharing that. I reminded them that my “scars” and #skin are part of me, not all of me. And by embracing my “ugly” I heal and feel great about my life! And no, not as in the way ugly opposes beauty because #ugliness is not the absence of #beauty. My appearance doesn’t dictate that. freeyomind #tag #girlrillavintage #uglyalookwithgreatcharacter

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Progressive: As In Black Folk Ain’t in the Equation?

The title I used amuses me, not necessarily because it’s a ridiculous concept or that I’m being sarcastic about race, or that I’m tired of talking about race, but at the moment, after speaking with a friend I might’ve been when I wrote this.

I started a social collective called, High Five the Movement: Safe & Accesible Spaces for People of Color in Lancaster PA, back in 2011, in response to the systemic race problem that targeted me and my folks personally on a regular basis, in damn near every establishment. We educate then we celebrate with community members of color and our allies about #afrikancentered teachings, ideals, social spaces then we celebrate via (dance party, art/game night etc.) It’s wild because even after all of the great lengths we went through to spread the word, to be inclusive via personal invites, canvassing, and social media NO ONE,  but us showed up. I would think is it our tone (skin and other wise)? Shit was deep because no one wanted to embrace what we had to say about the state of our community in relation to us back then.

That’s when I had to learn to be extra gentle with black people. Moments like that helped me to not internalize what was happening. Had to practice the same patience with them as I was teaching myself. Because let’s be honest, black Afrikan problems aren’t ordinary problems. Our shit is #systemic. Stems from posttraumaticslavesyndrome. Deep-rooted in racist, capitalist structures and misogyny. Our shit is extra deep, so we gotta be extra gentle with each other even just for those reasons.

I digress. Fast forwarding to when I moved away for two years, then came back this year. My extended friends and surrogate families made it an easy transition. Anyway, my point is is that I feel jaded and it’s irking to see that suddenly errrybody radical in the city. Got folks that aint even of #afrikandescent speaking on the behalf of our communities? Errrybody a spokesperson on race relations now? Coming out to speak on the behalf of colored folk with nothing, but book context? When us colored folks fight just to breathe in our own skin, just to not be a statistic, just to share a got damn sidewalk without being bullied into oncoming traffic by #msdaisy.

Not to mention #whitefolks calling Lancaster “the new Brooklyn” or as I overheard someone say “as progressive as Brooklyn? Huh? When? How? Hope we in context. Hope we in sync. Hope we NOT talkin’ ’bout #progressive as in #whengentrificationbringsracismtothehood (excellent article by the way)? The writer who is of #afrikandescent reflects on feeling like a stranger in his own #brooklyn neighborhood of #bedfordstuyvesent, in #2014. TWENTY FOURTEEN?! A whopping 3 years ago? And we are making such comparisons based on what we think we know about the progression of a place?

Hope that aint the #progress we think Lancaster is making? By pushing all black owned businesses to the edge of town, only to replace them with a million and one white washed coffeeshops, yoga studios, art galleries, and boutiques on every corner. When the only spec of color I see is myself and a print of #vincentvanghos #starrynight on canvass in a gallery that only offers the #wineandcheese to white folks. How they covet it when I reach, to get a taste, but they’ll never admit it.

Dat shit is almost as progressive as white hippies skating through the projects (thanks Jamed 😜). We gotta do better. We gotta set our own progress. PROGRESS that includes everyBODY. ‘Cause if black folks ain’t in the equation, ain’t shit progressive. #melaninmatters #coloredfolkmatter #afrikanfacepeoplematter #tag #girlrillavintage #theeamazinggrace #liberationaintfree

-Grace Berry

To the Maia Campbell’s of the World, We love you!

IMG_5349We always have the opportunity to value someone in a low place. A friend and I met a gentleman of #afrikanfacedescent yesterday who was visibly troubled. He stumbled through each step like a baby first learning to walk. His hands and arms were badly swollen and bruised. His shoulder was injured, covered in a thick, bloody gauze. His eyes were glazed over. His clothes were disheveled, draping over his frail bones. He looked fucked up! As my friend and I approached we asked how we could help him. He could barely speak. We probed until finally he agreed to some water. I ran to my house to grab something cold. It was hot out there! We encouraged him to seek medical attention, but he refused. He told us that he was a accosted by the police the night before and all he wanted was to go home. He never told us where home was. But we stayed with him, listened to him, put water on his neck, showed him that he matters. He finally got the strength to continue on to his destination. He reached to give us hugs and thanked us for our help and told us he would never forget us. His eyes became brighter just for a moment. We embraced him, tight because healing is what he needs. He might’ve been on #dope but none of that mattered. My mother was #crackaddicted and didn’t survive. Human beings are spiritual beings and they need love. Sending all my love to #maiacampbell who needs all the love she can receive.

Warmest,

Grace

Afrikan Face: Autochthonous Blood & Bone at PAVAA Gallery

Shameless plug #afrikanface showcase @pavaagallery! To show my appreciation of your support, the first 10 people will receive an @girlrillavintage #wearableartgift! I will have a #merchtable set up with my wearables for purchase. Also, there will be complementary #beverages and #snacks. Girlrillavintage and PAVAA accepts all major credit cards, so this is not a cash only event. The show starts promptly @630 pm. Running time about 40 min, followed by Q&A and mix & mingle. Doors @6. You don’t want to miss this transformative experience. Join us! Gonna be 🍌😜😘 #pavaa #pavaagallery #blackartists #blackgallery #afrikanart #girlrillavintage #blackperformance #girlrillavintageofcultchaᙠeforetheboat

https://m.facebook.com/events/146829212551589?view=permalink&id=150330458868131

 

“Don’t Save Her. She Don’t Wanna Be Saved”: How the Ho/Queen Dichotomy is Killing the Black Body

One time for my LA sisters One time for my LA hoes Lame niggas can’t tell the difference One time for a nigga who knows J Cole’s catchy chant in “No Role Modelz” reminds us that there’s a differenc…

Source: “Don’t Save Her. She Don’t Wanna Be Saved”: How the Ho/Queen Dichotomy is Killing the Black Body

To Smile Was My Only Inflection

 

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Struggling to Self love in summer

Self portrait. #summer2015 During a time of major transition. When the events in my life had me feeling grimy and less than powerful, unattractive and sore in heart. The sun was brighter and warmer that day, managed to hug me out of bed and into these clothes, onto this chair and under the trees where I could breathe. Suddenly, shit didn’t feel so bad. Reminded me of that unstoppable time on the train from Savannah when I knew then that my existence was never meaningless. And just like that my soul was warmed to the bone. To smile was my only inflection. #tag #theeamazinggrace #girlrillavintage #selflove #sunnydays #soullight #winning

Letter to NY Daily News Re: Alton Sterling Cover

Mr. Mortimer Zuckerman,

Are there any limits to the images NY Daily will publish? Your agency, being the fourth-most widely circulated tabloid in the U.S., I find it hard to believe that it would be acceptable to publish the blood soaked images of officers slain in Dallas, so why Alton Sterling? Or maybe that is a level of trauma and dehumanization reserved only for civilians of Afrikan descent? I’m deeply troubled by your lack of concern. Even the 1928 cover of Ruth Snyder’s execution was more dignified than Mr. Sterling. SHAME! SHAME! SHAME!

It reminds me of how my life as a woman of Afrikan descent is not in my hands. And how we are all hard-wired to endure, overcome, hold on a little longer when our bodies are left alone to die with cameras trained on us like guns. And publishers like you dissect and sell our pain for profit. Llike it’s “sport” to kill Afrikan bodies the same way it is to kill Afrikan wildlife, for trophies? Our existence is a catalyst to the indifferences we face EVERY TIME racial disparities happen. And you express no moral sorrow and publish it anyway.

We are all #micahxavierjohnson. The pain that caused the reaction. When we’ve had enough. When our silence no longer comforts. When our pain suffocates us & we become brave enough. AND I DON’T HATE WHITE PEOPLE, OR WANT TO KILL THEM. I WANT me and my loved ones to live. We NEED to survive encounters with the police. We NEED to survive their judgements about us before we open our mouths. We NEED hugs, mental, and emotional sensitivity. We NEED white publishers like you to look at your own humanity, know when you’ve gone too far and fix it!

Concerned,
Gracie Berry
Huntsville AL 35810

We Are All Micah Xavier Johnson

“Micah Johnson’s tactics are not my own, yet I’m all too familiar with his pain. I’m black. I’m alive while black today, yet my future is uncertain. My future does not seem to be in my own hands. I can’t help, but to feel his pain. And NO I don’t hate white people or want to kill them! I want to live. I need my family and fellow friends of Afrikan descent to live. I need us to survive encounters with police. I don’t want our bodies riddled with bullets when compliant. I don’t want us to be judged before we open our mouths. I want questions asked first, a safe return. I want an excuse offered to the state of our mental and emotional health. I don’t want our bodies riddled with bullets or chokeholds, blood. I want our bodies to be our own. I don’t want us struggling to be black. To struggle to exist. I want the world to know that we do and on purpose. I want them to accept that we do and let us live like we do. In some ways we are all #micahxavierjohnson, when we’ve had enough. When our silence no longer comforts. When our pain suffocates us & we become brave enough.”

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Micah Xavier Johnson

My second point is, FUCK false supremacy! Yes. I said, False Supremacy. Perley Cooper taught me that. The “white” is to incite inferiority. They don’t have any more power over us than we do, its an illusion tactic to overpower us to feel inferior. They plaster all things white all over the world, ALL over as to account for what is “normal” “acceptable”, “respectable”, or the “standard” for all living creatures. But they are not. They try to confuse us, chip away at our humanity, our images, our very lives. They try to evoke in us a feeling of less-than who and what we know we are. WE ARE RICH WITH MELANIN! We must change what we feel to believe what we KNOW. WE ARE AFRIKANS-THE MOST POWERFUL SPIRITS ON THE PLANET! AUCTOCHTHONOUS-THE FIRST PEOPLE, JUST LOOK AT EGYPT AND NIGERIA AND MARS. Don’t ever forget that.

Thirdly, to all of my friends and family of Afrikan descent who are parents don’t fret you’re doing just fine. Continue to guide those babies just as you always have strong, loving, black, proud. Don’t let fear override the great work you’ve done. Love is our freedom. Teach them the ways of our people, so that even if they decided one day to be an officer of the law, they will NEVER compromise themselves or our people. They will always know their truth and honor that no matter what. We can’t shelter our babies from the realities of racism and injustice in the world, but we can teach them and nurture them in the way they grow, teach the their power, that we as Afrikan people indeed have POWER! Believe in their ability to choose. BELIEVE IN THEM!

Love is and always has been BLACK-who we are. Love is in our DNA. Just look at how resilient and accepting, and forgiving sometimes to our own demise because thats where we come from, the home from where we come. We have to believe that. We must believe in our own abilities. Our people are winning in spite of ourselves and aside from all of the death and destruction plaguing our communities. Many will die to free our people, but they will never be forgotten, their deaths can never be in vain. Their struggle is ours to wage, and we must stay in it. We are limitless in our abilities. We can truly be and do anything. Grow them seeds and they will give us more fruit. One love to the people! Afrikan people, I don’t need to know you to love you to tears.

#TAG #TheeAmazingGrace #Girlrillavintage