breath through all the space that is left. don’t hold one bit inward, only push outward. remember locs are like them ghost spirits that woo and catch the eternal we are. they never leave and only find space to nestle closer. its no wonder that when we see them in pictures, in flesh they capture and shutter souls with the greatest of ease. never a fad, yet a natural phenomenon. locs loving on locs. they be like umbilical cords fused to a depth all their own. on the surface they sing and play and bind together. beneath they sew sweet vibes of melancholy figs. they grow stronger with wisdom. solidarity. dance. swing to rhythms in crowded places. they command all the love. they deserve it.

“If you’re not feeling good about you, what you’re wearing outside doesn’t mean a thing.” -Leontyne Price

To my cousin Johnny Berry! Still rooting for you! Behind bars and still beautiful by fly Knickknacks.

Gracie Berriberry
October 23, 2012
I live in this brown flesh, this is my life. I’m not afraid, never have, never will be. Like when I stood on the conference table of my high school principle’s office at age 16, demanding that he stopped his conference to address an act of racism that occurred toward me. As one of the only blacks in my high school I had experienced much being the only one, and had begun to make a name for myself, a name of revolutionary proportion. I was targeted and called a nigger. I shouted, “He called me a nigger, what are you going to do about this?” I asked the other staff in defense of myself if they had been called crackers, how would they like it, what would they do? My principle addressed the issue immediately! And don’t get me wrong him addressing it was half the battle, but the point is is that I refused to be silenced, no matter what my foster parents advised or otherwise. I once beat a girl to a bloody mess for calling me a nigger while chanting I was better an ornament hung from her daddies tree. I was considered “a revolutionary” black youth standing in the face of racism, and remain that same black woman today. I come from a long line of fighters! I always have, and always will stare these clucker’s in the face, and fight until the death of me!

🙂

Gracie Berriberry
November 27, 2012

“HIV is real and living in bodies of lives that don’t know it. My brother carried the disease for over 10-years, and he knew because he got tested. Sadly, my brother lost his life, but not due to HIV. When he told me I cried, I got angry, I wanted to kill the person that “did that” to my brother. My brother said, kill me sis ’cause I consented to this. Sis, I knew he had it, but I loved him and he loved me. I’d searched for love so long, and never found love like this, outside of you sis.” I wept some more, but he was right it was his choice. And what brave souls to honor each other the way they did by being honest. My point in sharing this is that, not every person is fearless or honest like my brother was. And people, myself included get comfortable with the way things are in sex, and love, and tend to “choose to forget” that not every person is deserving of that love or sex. Most all have sexual needs/desires, yet I’d much rather leave behind remnants of myself on plastic prophylactics than be scared by disease, life-long, poisoning my breast milk. It is my belief that the only person likely to kill you is you, plagued to death by your own mind, maimed by your own self inflicted butchery of self, or jumping, sight in tact into liquid-menacing from diseased-genitals, or syringes that never meant anything to begin with. Get Your Test! Choose To Know Where You Stand. Peace” Gracie Berriberry

Dear Dick’s That Rape,

The insubordinate intrusion of your dick affects every woman. Your dick is a degradation, terror, and limitation to all women. Most women and girls limit their behaviors because of the existence of your dick. Most women and girls live in fear of being perpetrated by your dick, impregnated without consent by your dick, diseased by your dick, cognitively scarred by your dick. Your dick, in general, does not. That’s how rape functions as a powerful means by which the whole female population is held hostage in a subordinate position to the whole dick population, even though many dick’s don’t rape, and many women aren’t victims of rape. “Rape culture” non-the less is the cycle of fear, the legacy your dick leaves. The invasion of your dick is beyond skin deep. The propensity of your dick creates environments in which rape is prevalent and in which sexual violence against women is normalized and excused in the media and popular culture. Your dick is perpetuated through the use of misogynistic language, the objectification of women’s bodies, and the glamorization of sexual violence, thereby creating a society that disregards women’s rights and safety. On the record you and your dick will be compromised without my consent.

Stop Raping,

Gracie

Gracie Berriberry
March 27, 2013
Just finished a convo with a friend about bisexuality. And honestly, I feel like labels really fuck shit up! We are so skilled at fastening labels onto anything we can’t understand or to ‘make sense of’. And how the hell can one make sense of an experience that is not their own? And even if your own is a direct reflection where is your right to throw it onto me, even if what we do looks similar. I believe that whomever creates these labels, does great damage, stabilizing their very own discomfort while gagging and binding people like me that wish to live motionless throughout life with the choice to decide what’s best for them. As a queer woman of color I’ve been blessed to share my life and intimacy with transgender, men, women, and have loved across cultures. I was pregnant once and loved the experience. Those relationships that I chose to cultivate were my choice and remains my choice without these debilitating labels being branded on me. Labels are for shelved items only. Liberated and thank you.- Gracie Berriberry