Border/Clash decompression

On Friday, I went with K and ChuckNorris, two other interns, to see 'Border/Clash: A litany of desires,' a one-woman slam-poetry-style show by Staceyann Chin at the Baxter Theatre in Rondebosch, the southern suburb where the University of Cape Town is. Chin is a Jamaican-Chinese lesbian who was born in Jamaica but now resides in New York City (when she's not touring with her show).

The show seamlessly moved from comedy to tragedy and back again, a series of poems interwoven to tell a life story that was at times foreign and familiar to me (and I imagine many women). Chin talked about the pain of her father choosing to not recognize her as his daughter and twice being abandoned by her mother, who chose a life alone in Canada to one in which she raised her two children. She talked about her childhood curiosity sparked by her changing body, watching in amazement as she transformed from a girl to a woman. She talked about discovering her love for women and the harsh backlash from Jamaican society in response to her living out loud. She talked about her decision to move to New York City and how she grew as a poet there. She talked about a lot of things.

She relived almost being gang raped by a group of students in a bathroom at her university in Jamaica (I think in Kingston). It was to be a corrective rape, to teach her 'what a real dick feels like' and fix her of her lesbian ways. By luck, someone walked into the bathroom and served as a distraction for enough time for Chin to escape. She also alluded to being molested or sexually assaulted by a male cousin. This was what she fled from - sexism and homophobia, both of which made her the target of violence.

Toward the end of the show, Chin stood at the back of the small stage on top of a foot-high platform with her arms spread wide, as if ready to hug everyone in the audience. At first in a normal voice, she said, 'What happened to you was not your fault.' And then she said it again louder. And again louder. And again louder, until she was shouting with her head thrown back, her wide open arms now making her look like she was on a cross, a martyr for the female cause.

What happened to you was not your fault.

It breaks my heart that I know so many women to whom this sentence should be, and has been, said. I know family and friends who have been abused, assaulted, and raped. Chin shouting this line was not to make sure that her audience heard her. It was a small theater; we all heard her. Her shouting was an attempt for her message to move beyond the walls of the theater and be heard by all who were not in attendance. Or perhaps her shouting was an attempt to make the statement permeate the skin, muscle, and bones to reach the center of each individual so that we carried it with us when we left. It was an empowering moment to hear this stated so forcefully, but also tragic because I know I will repeat it in the future.

And this is why I needed a hug after the show.

As K, ChuckNorris, and I left the theater and made our way down the steps to the foyer, we were all quiet. The first thing said was, 'Well, I don't know about you, but I thought she was hot.' I had the urge to turn to K and yell, asking how something so shallow could possibly be her first thought. But I realized this might be how she was processing the gravity of the show's content, by focusing on something light. When I was little I would smile before crying when I heard something sad, like when I was told that my Grandma died. My reaction made no sense to me then, but I couldn't help it. That was just how my brain responded. Now I mostly choose to be silent after experiencing something emotionally draining or traumatic, process things internally and then talk through it later. It sucks to not have my nearest and dearest actually near me; I could use a real conversation - not one by Skype - followed by a real hug. 37 days until I'm home.