I’ve always perceived my sexual + psychological abuse to being in a fight with a gorilla. It was never about having a chance but of what would be left of me. The inevitable taking its time because it knows it’ll prosper. Black womanhood, turned resilience, has societally equated to the weight of our visibility and value. To the viewer, it wasn’t about having a chance but of what would be left of us; our bodies, our labor, our abilities. I understood Black womanhood to be what pieces could we nakedly salvage. After the swing, after the blood and cum, after the lights turn the bend, after the dial tone. These gathered remnants, by the end, created her depth, or so they hope.
‘versions’ explores the consequences of generational neglect, familial trauma, and the effects of memory loss - from PTSD - as it relates to searching for meaning in the self. Close to the age of 9, being wistfully withdrawn curdled to aggressive dissociation. It’s deeper than losing your playfulness; curiosity lying open faced in warm ashes of innocence. Dissociation saved my unripe psyche though sludges pathways leading to a higher self. What is left of me is a yearning to fill the gaps.
When given a large amount of family photos - after the passing of my grandfather - I, still dissociative, felt numb but found an eerie comfort in them. Faces upon faces of people I don’t know and who don’t know me yet here I am with a context, a story, a truth, a deception, a dot to connect. How could it not be that these figures (ancestors) guide me to suggestive action(s)? How could it not be that their reflection in me drips through my artistic gestures? A common denominator - some of which are still unveiled - being portraiture and documenting spaces. All which culminate for me to conclude that in repetition + deep introspection - while documenting the process - the spiritual callings I have begun to hear are filling those gaps left by an unstable psyche.
Despite my ignorance to define what Black womanhood is within the current version of myself - a decision that is made to lead me back within, to wholly consider my being - I reject being summarized to resilience. What will be left for the viewer to consider of the humanness of Black women, long after this story?
