nice to meet you
come bear witness
Hello gentle-people,
I wanted to share a bit about myself since there are so many new folks here. I also know many of you have been here so I am approaching this as an exercise in re-narrating, through the act of bearing witness.
So hello…or hello again.
Re-narrating
We are often re-narrating without thinking about it. I think about how much my personal style has changed throughout the years, beginning with some kind of question like, “Can I become the kind of person who wears this?”
This is a question I often ask when thrifting. Something could “fit” in the fitting room….but still does not quite seem to fit as I move with it and take it out of the store. Fit as much spiritual as it is physical. It’s as much about how good I look and how practical the outfit is for meeting the various situations throughout the day as I move.
So with that question in mind, I will share a bit about who I am and who I am becoming in this season. I am still picking up new things and realizing the question of finding out what looks good has as much to do with what I have affirmed about the body that is carrying the clothes than the clothes themselves.
As you re-narrate, you must be prepared to be read.
By your own scrutinizing eye and the eyes of those looking at you. As you walk, there are eyes around you that may assess how well you perform in the truths you are outfitted in. Sure, you can put any new identity—or outfit—on…but if something is not real—to yourself and to those who move through life with you, well…
Come Bear Witness
My name is Rose J. Percy. I am a poet, theologian, artist, and singer (among other things). I am in the middle of my 30s, or as I call them now "my sensible shoe era." My humor is equal parts corny and elite. I write about gentle landings. I live to grow softer. I rest to break curses. I read to reclaim life. I am watching my life slowly reflect dreams I've had for a long time. Come bear witness.
I am reflecting on where I found the audacity1 to post this to Notes/Threads, and now, as the landing page on my website. Come, bear witness.
The first thing you should know about me, if you wish to know me is…I grew up in the church…and I sought church beyond the “four walls,” as early as 17. So I have scriptures I had memorized dancing inside my head. At one point, I memorized the first chapter of the Gospel of John, which begins, “In the beginning was the word, and the Word was with God and the word was God…”2
in the beginning
was the word
the year of our lord,
amen, I
lucille clifton
hereby testify
that in that room
there was a light
and in that light
there was a voice
and in that voice
there was a sigh
and in that sigh
there was a world.
a world a sigh a voice a light and
I alone
in a room
Lucille Clifton, "testament"My favorite-favorite poet, Lucille Clifton plays with this chapter in her poem “testament.” It is a poem with an invitation to trust: there is a revelation of divinity in me….come see it.
There is a light I have come to know and experience…watch it shine within me.
In my living, I could teach you—if you are willing—about ways of knowing that have kept me alive—come bear witness to my survival…come bear witness to yours.
We are coming together. We are becoming.
Dreamweaver’s Prayer
A holy conversation
Words in dialogue with breaths
Subtle reminders of life persisting
I am s/weeping
Lines of dust away from the
Dreams I am weaving when
My mind is quiet enough to let them
Untangle themselves
From the mention of messing up
I pray
That you can just let me be (here)
With myself
And okay
I pray
Wholeness is a dream we weave
strong enough for those
carrying the load
of rest in their hopesDream weaving
This poem was written to describe a conversation I had with two of my friends, back when I was reflecting on what felt like a colossal waste of time. I explained to them that I had spent most of my M.Div studies focusing on learning for a community I no longer identified with. I had let myself become a bridge in such unhealthy ways, with the hopes of drawing them close to me.
I knew I wanted to shift everything about how I do scholarship and I had a book list of sources I needed to help me get there. They helped me organize an Amazon wishlist of books and folks I barely knew wove into my dream with the purchase of these books.
This act, and many others, helped shape the communal care ethic I wish to live in. There was a time when the life I know now was just a dream. Now I wear that dream broken in, with patterns that brightly highlight who has come along with me.
for more on communal care and reframing accomplishments:
prepare to be read…and be misread.
English is my second language. You would never know, based on my accent. My accent says the pressure to assimilate has triumphed. Still, I have wrestled with the feeling of being lost in translation...with being misread.3
When I discovered poetry, I felt at home in a place where words could have multiple meanings. I felt a warmth when I knew I could sit in that place and hold on to the parts of me that were many and unassimilable.
I love languages and I love in many languages. There is a chance, if you are here, I am speaking in one of yours.
I love “testament” by Lucille Clifton because it calls us into experience but places a boundary around the actual events of what happened in that room. We have to go, trusting her witness, and realize that that trust helps us believe what we have witnessed.
Some part of the invitation to bear witness to what I want to offer here means knowing there will be times I move in and out of languages you will understand. I may chart a path through the wilderness and forget to leave a signpost that explains what is up ahead.
I am not interested in creating a guidebook. You will misunderstand and misread me with misnomers. But in your misreading, I will not be lost.
Come bear witness to me, as I find myself, even as I may lose you.
Can I be the kind of person who wears this?
I want to end with this question, as I linger in this light to see if I can pull it off. As I adorn myself with the audacity to walk in and out of rooms with a testament of my own. I have heard my words leave me and fall into the void with those who will never arrive. But I am finding harbor with those who read me with an expansive and clarifying love.
Someone this past week told me I carry myself like I am sure of myself...and that I seem like a go-getter. I looked at 'em and said, "You're right. Those things are true."
Perhaps it is because of the things I have found. Come bear witness.
Perhaps it is because of the things I am no longer afraid to lose. Come bear witness.
Perhaps it is because I don't mind dwelling in the places where shadow and light meet. Come bear witness.
Perhaps it's because I wear both well and I'm no longer afraid to let you see. How many more invitations do you need?
🐦⬛ Landing Tracks
I would love to know what you are wearing. Trying on for the first time…or digging out from behind your closet because you have found the confidence to move with it.
Who do you trust to “read” you? Especially for those of you who write—entering the space of being misunderstood constantly…who reads you with expansive and clarifying love? How do you navigate being misunderstood/misread?
Where are you finding new light? How are you inviting others to bear witness to it? How are you narrating your experience of the light you are finding?
An affirmation: I will be misunderstood…but I will not live there. I will be misread…but love is reading me well. Love is reading me well. All the ones whose love is home can tell: Love is reading me well.
SEE YOU NEXT WEEK
I will be on vacation for the week (yay working in public education!). Feel free to comment/share/lift this post. I will return to bear witness via reponse to you after resting for a while.
“Audacity” has always been a liberative word in Black women’s journeys of embracing who they are and what they have. Ours is a marginalized epistemology in the world, but when we decide for ourselves how we are named and the truths we claim, we can find the audacity to live in our power….rather than chase the approval of those who use power to suppress. I appreciated Khristi Lauren Adams’ explanation on the liberative power of Black women’s audacity here.
I dug into this a bit in my post, “Light touches dark skin, too.” You can read it here.
You can read more on this in this post on being “lost in translation.” But we will revisit it a bit more in part 2 of my writing praxis. You thought I forgot? Nah, I just have always been that student who turns in assignments when I feel like it.
I am a witness
This was such a joy to read. Thank you! I feel myself slowly coming out of the need to be understood and its equal parts liberating and nervewrecking. Isolating at times, but it gives us the chance to lean into the health sides of self-reliance that are being developed. It also makes me grateful for those who have been comfortable enough to understand/misunderstand me and stay connected to me through it all.