a refuge, a cage, & "Eldest Dawtah Rage" (a peek inside my closet)
perching lines, no.3
Hello gentle-people,
Happy Juneteenth to all who have celebrated from a place of deep ancestral knowing. This day is yours and has always been.
Happy Juneteenth to those leaning into new edges in the pursuit of some kind of freedom from oppressive strongholds; those who come to this celebration with histories of our own from other lands and intersectional identities. (I am Haitian, January 1st is my independence day.)
And for everyone else…may some sense of discomfort lead you to joining actual liberation efforts—let displeasure guide you today, so that it will never be enough just to have another day off. May your consciousness always itch until you are soothed only by a true spirit of abolition. I cannot say this day is yours—it is not mine to offer. May the search for that kind of ease and sense of ownership in this celebration cease.
🐦⬛ perching lines
A “perch” is a light rest. Much needed in a world where many of us have to learn how to catch a break while standing up. In these short posts, I will offer poems, questions, and connections for those brief moments of reprieve. [Explore more in this series.]
a refuge, a cage
What becomes of someone who sees but cannot name what they see? Someone filled with questions who can not ask them, let alone answer them?
I can tell you, they try very hard to shut their eyes, hoping their own imagination can become a place where they roam free.
And mine was.
— Rose J. Percy, “at ease, beloved,” June 12, 2024.
Today’s curated “perching lines” come from my last post, “at ease, beloved.” I felt it was heavy even as I wrote (and rewrote and rewrote and rewrote it). It has been stirring in my mind, heart, and body for so long that letting this piece go came with some grief. It dawned on me, only after my friend
talked about world-building as a hobby…perhaps I am a world-builder, too. It made even more sense when I considered this lingering idea I forgot to weave in:I recently watched the chronicles of Narnia and I can’t help but think about how many of us wish for a world on the other side of a closet.
—Rose J. Percy, apple notes, June 7, 2024.
Eldest Dawtah Rage
“Eldest Daughter Rage” started out as a casual string of words, with a playful nod to Ntozake Shange on a Threads post. It has since evolved into an exploration of my musical sound and an inner world turned inside out.
My wardrobe—the garments, not the closet that kept them in the C.S. Lewis sense—has always been a source of creative self-expression. I will not spend too much time here recounting the phases but this outfit in itself holds so many symbols.1 I was dressed for a little outdoor concert, where I sang some songs I’ve been practicing in my room as I have been finding my voice again.
There was a new me in the world, and her screams now resolved to deny oppressive silence another moment of pleasure.
— Rose J. Percy, “at ease, beloved,” June 12, 2024.
I am sitting with what I know now are parts of me coming together, to honor the theme of integrity in my last post. Yes, I am the girl who seeks a gentle landing, who loves quietness most of the time. But I am also the girl who rages out and finds ways to sing as loudly as her lungs can handle it.
I can be both.
Just as I was able throughout the years to build a world within a closet. I am working on believing I can build a something here, in this world, with you all in it. But I may always turn to my refuge and it may look like I am in a cage sometimes, but I have learned to find the door, over and over—
I know I will find it again.
🐦⬛ landing track:
Just one today, a query for relief: Is it safe to scream where you are? If not, as you sat with that question, where does the scream go if it cannot crawl out of you? In my ongoing journey with somatic abolition,2 I have learned that the throat can constrict when we have truths buried in us. One way to honor these buried truths is to hum. Hum until it is safe to release…hum inner worlds of truth where you are free for now. 3
🐦⬛ Locked In presents…our Unlocked newsletter!
Locked In is a writing group for Black, Indigenous, and Writers of Color/the global majority on Substack. We currently write together on Fridays at 9am EST, with new times rolling out as our community grows.
We just launched Unlocked | BIPOC Reads to share curated posts featuring work from members of our community to a wider audience. Our first issue was published last week!
For those who love a good outfit breakdown:
I have gold barrettes in my hair, which I used to wear a a child. They are arranged in a crown around my head, which also connects to a season of my late teens where I dressed a bit hippy-like.
Yellow Converses…I wonder if there are other tall girls like me who found such safety in Converses. They were always affordable, available, came in my size. I started wearing them in middle school, while I was discovering rock music and almost everyone around me had on Air Force 1s.
What teenager in the early oughts, who loved rock n roll, didn’t at one time dawn a tie over a tie shirt?
I actually made a Nirvana screen printed shirt like the one I have on here (thrifted) in high school, since, sheltered as I was, I wasn’t allowed to shop at the stores in the stores I might’ve been able to find one.
This particular shade of yellow was my favorite throughout my 20s. Until I discovered stripes, like these lovely cargo pants have. When I traveled during the summer in college on a music & ministry team to various youth camps, I decided I would say “stripes are my favorite color” whenever I introduced myself.
A term coined by Resmaa Manekem, who does workshops around it. I had the pleasure of participating in one last spring.
If you find more capacity for reading, perhaps mine some perching lines from this post on humming:
I love this whole thing. The idea of world building your own life is immaculate. Imagine.
Everytime I read your work , I am gobsmacked at how much of myself I see. The outfit breakdown with the converses detail. That’s where I found myself in your work today.
Thank you for you.