Watch Us Rise(61)
Not Your Typical Love Poems: An Alternative Valentine’s Day Reading List
by Jasmine Gray
1.“Poetry Should Ride the Bus” by Ruth Forman. A poem about loving the simple things, about finding beauty in ordinary places. In this poem poetry plays “hopscotch in a polka dot dress” and sings “red revolution love songs.” Here’s to loving everyday people doing ordinary things.
2.“Congregation” by Parneshia Jones. A poem about loving and honoring tradition. This is a tribute to family, to cooking together, and to breaking bread with one another. It is about what is passed down from one generation to the next. Here, love is having a belly full of food, a heart full of joy.
3.“Raised by Women” by Kelly Norman Ellis. A poem about loving the people who raised us. This is about loving every kind of woman: the scholar, the debutante, the artist. The tell-it-like-it-is women, the flawed women. In this poem, love isn’t perfectly packaged, but it is felt in a profound way.
4.“For My People” by Margaret Walker. A poem about loving where you come from. This is a poem of praise that honors African American history. It is a love poem about struggle, about overcoming.
5.“Phenomenal Woman” by Maya Angelou. A poem about loving yourself. This poem is a powerful declaration of self-affirmation, of resilience, and of confidence. The ultimate self-esteem poem.
6.“won’t you celebrate with me” by Lucille Clifton. A poem about loving your journey. This is a poem that acknowledges that every day something—racism, sexism, classism—tries to kill us. Sometimes spiritually, sometimes physically. But the things that have the potential to destroy us can also cause us to rise.
Love yourself enough
after Jasmine
by Chelsea Spencer
It’s true, my love for me should be electric, explosive, energetic. Should bend & shape
surround me. Hold me close. Kinship, comfort
me when it matters. Love myself. The definition
of who I am. So, can I love myself & still be falling for you? You who only loves me—part time.
Who only wants me on the sideline, just a little.
Not enough. How I want your want for me
to be colossal. Bumping & massive. Unstoppable.
Reckless in your want for me. & only me. That I
would be enough.
Top 10 Feminist Questions
by Chelsea Spencer
1.Can I be a feminist and still care about luscious lipstick colors, the best blush, and how to wear enough eyeliner to make my eyes POP?
2.Can I be a feminist and still shop at stores that emphasize big breasts, tiny waists, and full hips? Or stores that stock clothes in size xx-small?
3.Can I be a feminist and still read beauty magazines obsessively? And not just because I’m writing radical poems with them, but maybe because I sometimes (most times) care about the advice they give, even if I know it’s superficial and ridiculous!
4.Can I be a feminist and watch shows where women do 90 percent of the housework, the cooking, the cleaning, and on and on? Can I still love shows that subscribe to super-sexist ideas about women?
5.Can I be a feminist and have a crush on James—someone who didn’t even know about feminism before we met, someone who is dating someone else, someone who doesn’t fully know who I am, since, if he knew me, he’d know that what he’s giving is not enough.
6.Can I be feminist and want to be pretty?
7.Can I be feminist and sometimes want to be quiet and shy?
8.Can I be feminist and still be friends with people who don’t care about women’s rights as much as I do?
9.Can I be feminist sometimes, and take a break other times?
10.Can I just be me?
After school Isaac asks, “Want to come with me to Felipe’s Art Shop?”
In my head, I say no, since spending Valentine’s Day at an art supply store is not what any of us had in mind. “Sure,” I tell him. Then I think how both Chelsea and Nadine are going to be disappointed, because neither of them have won their bet.
Felipe’s is Isaac’s favorite art supply store. Partly because of the range of materials he can choose from but also because it’s in Washington Heights, not too far from school. He comes here so much, the people who work here know him by name. The last time we came here together, Isaac said he just needed to stop in for one thing and we stayed for two hours. Today, when we step inside, the man behind the counter smiles and nods. “Isaac, my man. What’s good?”
“Hey, Felipe.” Isaac stands in the middle of the aisle.
Felipe moves his head slightly to the left, as if to tell Isaac, “Go over there.”
Isaac takes a deep breath, and I’m beginning to feel like maybe they just passed some kind of secret code to each other. I smile at Felipe, and he smiles too. In a familiar way, like he knows me. Isaac walks over to the aisle where the sketchbooks are. “Help me pick something out,” he says.
“Don’t you always use these?” I pull the black spiral book up and open it. It has blank pages, and at the back, the last pages are perforated along the spine so they can be torn out easily.
“Yeah,” Isaac says. “But I want to try something new. Maybe one of those.” He points.
I pick up a sketchbook that has graph paper in it, flip through it, and pass it to him.