Practice-based research .14
Thirty-six, bird watching, and gendered robots
I didn’t write a blog in April and I have a feeling I will no longer be committing to a monthly post, for a few reasons. Mainly, my reason for writing has changed a little, or rather my demand for writing has changed. Now I write because the academy says I should, but I also write because it’s reaching parts of me nothing else will. So I suppose both the institution and my pain demands that I write more. And because of this increase in writing, I am less able to write to you. I’m less able to use writing to have this type of conversation, at the moment anyway. The irony of not writing as much because I’ve fallen in love with writing again is not lost on me. But I am also pretty chuffed that writing has come back to me, or I’ve come back to writing.
So because of this relationship shift with writing, this entry will be short but hopefully still meaningful.
Taurus season is in bloom
Two weeks ago I celebrated my 36th Birthday.
I spent the morning with my dear nan, we watched an old episode of Rick Stein’s cooking and slowly dipped our dry crackers into a sweet cup of tea.
I went on to spend the day with my partner decorating our new home and reflecting on the last year.
As the day went on, things got quieter and I thought, since it was my birthday and I am supposed to celebrate, it would be appropriate to think about what there is for me to celebrate, especially in this socio-political climate. I thought about what I am grateful for, what changes have taken place and which one of those were welcomed and which ones I accepted reluctantly.
I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I recognised myself for the first time in my entire life. Somehow, I both recognised myself and noticed things I’d never noticed before. I noticed my great grandmother’s mouth, and maybe her mother’s too, I have never seen Ms Dolly’s face but my nan, and her mum, they definitely passed down to me their mouth. I looked at my lips, or their lips, and wondered if they gave it to me because I am meant to say something that they couldn't. I wondered if we share the same mouth so we can say the same things. I wondered if there’s a power and possibility in my mouth that was also in theirs. In the evening, my partner and I made an alter to the matriarchs of our family. We placed 3 photographs in 3 small frames and placed them on our entertainment centre. We stood back and admired the women who were here before us and who continue to guide us. I opened my photos on my phone and looked at my nan’s mouth and then back at mine, astounded, I called my nan, I wanted to hear her mouth move, I wanted to see if I could picture her lips through the phone, if I could visualise it just by hearing them in motion. I could. 2 days later, I took a photo of myself using my phone and printed it, without editing or over analysing it, I just took it, printed it and looked at it closely. Thank you nan, thank you nanna, thank you Ms Dolly for this mouth, these large features that do large things when they speak. So, on my thirty-sixth birthday, I grateful for my mouth, because it is also their mouth.
Birds
I have wanted my own garden for as long as I can remember. I realised just how much I craved living in a home with access to a patch of nature when I came back from a trip to Jamaica in 2022. Up until that point, I had wanted garden space but never fussed over it too much, I was just grateful for my little flat. During that 2022 trip home, I spent all day at my uncle’s homestead. He calls it his Garden of Eden. When I returned to England, I dreamt of expanding my growing space, which at that point, was a little concrete section designated for the wheelie bins. I used that space to (unsuccessfully) grow potatoes. 4 years later, I have a home with a beautiful garden and since nature is what underlines my pedagogy, I could not help but think about what my new garden is teaching me. I look out at the grass and tell myself I should cut it today and then I look up at the large sycamore tree where some birds live.
Each morning, I observe and discuss with myself what they are doing and why, I try to imagine their thoughts and motivations. Beyond their instinct to gather, hunt, build and so on, I wonder what the birds are thinking about. I mumble to myself about what they might do if they were not trying to survive, what do they get up to between trying to survive. And then I ask the same about me. What would we (the birds and I) do with the time designated for hunting if we never needed to hunt? would birds fly if they didn’t need to, simply because they had wings? do I create because I have to make money or just because I can?
Robot monks?
Final thought:
Last week I read something on Kelechi Okafor’s instagram story that confirmed just how intentionally nonsensical and oppressive the gender discourse is. (if you don’t already engage with Ms. Okafor online, I suggest you do, I recommend their platform for various reasons). Anyway, on Okafor’s story, she shares a clip of a robot being initiated as a monk in Thailand, overlayed onto the footage, Okafor writes “I would love to talk about the gendered vibes around robots. So are we saying (of course we are) that gender can be decided??? Because essentially there’s nothing inherent that makes this robot male but it’s allowed to be a monk.” she goes on to write “I think the rise of AI and robots will show us how deeply flawed gender binaries are.” and I just wanted to leave this here as a final thought to think about gender in regards to learned computers and programmed devices. [I will come back to this later.]
My name is Exodus, many of my loved ones call me Exo for short. Exo has become a personal vow to love and hold myself and others, so with hugs and kisses, I thank you for reading. xoxoxo
Oh, and while you are here, please donate what you can to my top surgery Gofundme organised by my wonderful partner. :-)