An introduction

Peace everybody,
I want to introduce myself a little bit before I introduce my work. My name is Amanda Ali. I am a Black, radical, able and female-bodied, queer, Muslim feminist born and raised in the Franklin Field section of Dorchester, Massachusetts. I’ve been blessed. My rough upbringing juxtaposed against stellar educational opportunities afford me a unique perspective on life.

After leaving the Boston Public School system at eleven years old, the culture shock of private school in Wellesley, Massachusetts hit hard. Moving into dormitories three years later only made me angry. Racism and privilege at the school hardly provided a sound environment for personal development as did neither of my parents' homes. My external communication concerning emotions stunted while my internal voice flourished onto paper.

Four years at Williams College gave me a critical analysis of my experiences as a young, queer, Black woman in America; my writing often taking a dark tone to reflect this understanding.

Now, as a published poet, community organizer and MSW candidate, I am learning every day new ways to cope, new ways to learn and teach and new ways to speak. I hope ultimately to have an influence on youth from similar backgrounds and to be a resource for my community.

By day, I am a health professional; by evening, an organizer, spoken word artist and activist and by night, I am a poet and writer.  I am a full-time critical thinker whose work is meant to be read aloud. It speaks to the root causes of the isms and prejudices that surround us all and has previously been published in the online poetry magazine, Breadcrumb Scabs and La Sagrada, the 2009 Zine from the Mujeres de Maiz.

Below are some pieces that I recently read with a group of women from the urban neighborhoods of Boston doing great community work called Reflect and Strengthen.

Politikin’ Personal Politics

If you are a person
everything is personal.
But when systems started putting our personage on blast
the personal became political.
And since their politics have been involving my clitoris since before I knew what to call it
and before they built slave ships,
my personal is always political.
My skin color has been up for grabs since we got here.
And even if people of color leave now, white men’s politics will still dictate where we can go.
And even if you “have no color,”
the politics of that
state that
you have the privilege
to say that.

So if you are a person,
then everything should be political.
So I politik my politics to those melanated people who think that politics don’t concern them
even though they come from a White House.
And I make sure that those colorblind who don’t have to pick a side
step aside until they figure their shit out.
I don’t make mundane conversation political.
The politics are already in ideology
I just name it.

Therefore,
everyone should be active,
everyone should be pissed
about everything that we don’t have access to
and take it.


1 4 the Times

I live in a police state.
and so do you.
streets are war zones.
mobilize the youth.
make aware the generations
much older than you.
we must awaken the people
this war will consume you.

We are the victims!
We are the martyrs!
We are the soldiers!

Heat.
The heat from the sun beats down on the people in waves.
Agitated we
use our landscape
to take each other down.

Angry
there’s no food
Angry
there’s no air
Angry
bombs drop everywhere
and we
end up
homeless.

Combat.
Sweat meets brow as we
hand-to-hand,
gun-to-chest
kill each other.
And we die slowly on the pavement,
blood runs into sewers
in churches,
minds run away from grief
panic meets artery
on wooden slabs of pew
spirits die too.

Pigs with M16s
mean
war.
Urban warfare,
we should be the guerillas
but are gorillas
mis-identifying our enemies.

I live in a police state.
and so do you.
streets are war zones.
mobilize the youth.
make aware the generations
much older than you.
we must awaken the people
this war will consume you.

we already grow up too fast
waving childhood good-bye at nine
becoming soldiers on patrol
protecting our young and our youth.

constantly under attack
our
man and womanhood
lives and livelihood
and yet, we strive to get out the hood.

I asked for advice
about what we should be doing
I was told to be putting bombs
inside the subway systems
snipe on top of skyscrape buildings
if we’re gonna be guerillas

patrol our own streets
watch for the common enemy
wiping tears over our blood
shed
after seeing gore too early.

war wounds still oozing
pain
carrying our dead on our backs
backed up by
our Somalian family
our Liberian family
our Palestinian family…

militarizing our neighborhoods
in our favor
violence is in our blood
spilling onto our culture

gun recycling
it’s time to fry bacon
and recycle the oil
to keep our lanterns burning
in vigil
reuse the fat to make new candles
new culture
of community policing
we belong to each other.

I live in a police state.
and so do you.
streets are war zones.
mobilize the youth.
make aware the generations
much older than you.
we must awaken the people
this war will consume you.

This Work

Don’t ask me why I do this work.
I do this work because nobody’s fighting for the wholeness of Dorchester.
They give us shots and pills,
but no one seems to get better.
Because our breasts are infected,
they rip out our wombs,
and feed us chain food toxins
strategically.
I do this work because where you live still determines how long you’ll live.

Because mothers having children they can’t afford is a symptom of a bigger problem. Because brothers locking themselves up in the winter says there’s something wrong with the system.
Because everyday, there’s a girl with no love at home,
meets a man she thinks is cool
and decides to have a child of her own.
And we elders calls her stupid;
Not realizing that we are who failed her.
Unable to give the support she needs
because we’re not getting it ourselves—
The cycle.

I do this work to break it;
To let people know that their problems
are our problems.
That their burdens come from a larger system,
and that their pain
comes from the pain of those before them.
I do this work because we are so detached from our bodies that we do not care what we put in them.
Because the links between mind, body and soul have been lost but might be the key to our salvation.
Because empowerment begins at the heart
but our actions are in our hands.
So when will self-worth become valued within our movement?

I do this work because I speak up and tell my truth,
and for it I get called a bully, a bitch, a dyke
and a whore for looking good while doing it.
I’m arrogant for defending my convictions,
Because I know my worth and use it.
I do this work because I cannot dress up and be taken seriously.

“O you accursed women who make men rape you
Make men hate you
Because you speak like they do
And do not apologize.”
That is the curse of competence.

I do this work for my past, present and future.
I do this for my friends, family, blood relation and extended.
I do this work for the ones who can’t,
don’t know they should
or simply refuse to,
I do this for me, he, she, ze, in between and most of all
I do this work
for you.

Junkyard

can you see me?
can you see beyond what you think you see?
we being robots
trained to perform
trained to be
what we see

feeling nothing
not knowing who we are
copying carbon copies
outlining ourselves

follow command
reject the hand
see no clearer
be the mirror

blocking the stage for each day
carrying out the divine design

each morning,
risen to find
mirror images
reflecting the malfunction
body betrayal when the Ace Bandage
slips
do you know how to tie down D’s?
does it matter?

hard drive damaged
emergency:
shut down

switch roles
create new life
ignorant pupils
gaze
disconnect
live wires
start a fire
to
unplug

i hear the echoes
i'm calling myself


seeing reverberations
amalgamations
hearing reflections of pieces
that work

searching,
looking
uncovering, digging, calling, wanting
the whole
calling out to the clothes,
the hair,
the face
who are you today?
made up for you
today

some
things only fit parts
some
times
and in some
places

can you put a butch spin on hijab?
what do I have?

can you see me?
can you see beyond what you think you see?
we being robots
trained to perform
trained to be
what we see

feeling nothing
not knowing who we are
copying carbon copies
outlining ourselves

follow command
reject the hand
see no clearer
be the mirror

choreography
that matches the leader
what are you wearing?
what did you say?
sit up straight
carry the weight
of who you're not

cherry-picking stance
magnificate
to assimilate
to feel half-way-there
queer
to say the least
part-tamed beast
came to me in a dream,
free

defined by anatomy
used against me
performing cunnilingus
with cunning linguals
shut the fuck up
and genderfuck for fun
words mean nothing

what do you get when the fitted won’t fit
but the heels hurt
and the bra is scratchy?

awake to a new day
unearth another piece
the beast still calls me
nuts and bolts
hold
together
Tin Man butter
junkyard

can you see me?
can you see beyond what you think you see?
we being robots
trained to perform
trained to be
what we see

feeling nothing
not knowing who we are
copying carbon copies
outlining ourselves

follow command
reject the hand
see no clearer
be the mirror