altar
Hi friends,
Sorry for the long absence—I’ve been deep in farm work and moving through the manifold pleasures and losses of the season. Here I am again, returning to this practice of writing thoughts, compiling tidbits, and sharing them with you. I’ve been so grateful for Marlee Grace’s newsletter about many things including creativity, surrender, book writing (more on that in a minute), and practice. Marlee writes a lot about practice and habit, how to use those frameworks as flexible containers rather than punitive, value-driven structures. Marlee writes, “in returning to habits when we stray I always suggest we return to devotion.” I like to think of my own newsletter as a container that can hold the ebbs and flows of my practice and devotion, one which can serve as a kind of living archive of thoughts, desires, and sometimes too, absence and failure. Marlee also writes,
“I don’t need to do things for any length of time. Who made up lengths of time? Everything on Earth comes down to: How long do you stay? And when is it better to leave? . . . I trust myself to know how long I want to do a thing for. I trust myself to decide what the next thing is.”
I know I don’t fully have this trust in myself yet, but I’m working on it. Trying to trust the pit of my own stomach, my internal lengths of time that tell me how long I want to do a thing and when—despite my own denial and grasping—I am already starting to feel towards the next thing.
Anyway, I have some news: I’m working on a book!! In addition to farming, I’ve also spent this summer writing my book proposal, revising my proposal, querying and taking calls with agents, seeking doulas and guides to join me in this stage of creative/gestative process. Last month, I signed with Goldin Literary Agency to represent my book MOUNTED, about the role of horses in shaping politics, race, and pop culture in America. I’m writing this book a lot now, but also - I’ve been writing this book for so long. I’ve written about looking for Black histories of horse riding and tending, the role of horses in policing and state violence, my experiences in equestrian sports, on my college Tumblr, in a workshop I took with Anelise Chen in 2017, in my text messages, in articles and conversations and interviews for at least the past seven years. I’m so excited to share this with you soon.
I initially started writing today’s newsletter because of the song “altar” by Kehlani, but then I realized I was writing about devotion and practice in a more personal sense too. Kehlani is one of those artists that I feel has grown up with me as I’ve entered adulthood. I’ve watched her journey from edgy young R&B singer to mother to, now, becoming very much a queer music celebrity as they continue to hone their craft. The day after she started her recent tour, I opened Tiktok to a barrage of gleeful content showing her dancing onstage (or, seducing the hopelessly horny audience) with her crew of backup dancers. Kehlani's latest album Blue Water Road is a chronicle of devotion, building on earlier themes of connection, sexuality, romance, and relational conflicts with a new sense of steadiness. But the song that most stood out to me isn’t about the kind of relationship you’d expect to find on an album like this. On “altar,” Kehlani turns to her relationship with ancestral practice, addressing the song to a loved one who has died.
In the song, Kehlani lovingly details the steps she takes to connect with the dead, describing the “fresh white flowers and a new tea light, nine cups of water” she places on her altar. The relationship she describes is one which feels dynamic and alive; she sings about fixing a plate for her loved one and sharing a meal “your way,” playing her loved one the songs they used to enjoy. “Don’t know why I ever thought you were far away,” they sing. “I should’ve known better/If I set a flame and call your name.”
In describing a relationship with the dead that is active, collaborative, and ongoing, Kehlani invokes practices shared by many spiritual traditions throughout Latin America, the Caribbean, and the African diaspora as a whole. From sidewalk memorials to pouring one out for the homies to the various ancestral practices that move through our homes, churches, and gatherings, these forms of veneration are an essential part of our daily lives. I love that “altar” doesn’t sound out of place on an album about intimacy and romance. The relationship many of us have with our ancestors is one of deep love and care for those who have made us who we are. The word “romance” comes from a Middle English word used for vernacular songs that emphasized the ethical code of chivalry, principles of honor, generosity, and courage. In this sense, “altar” is deeply romantic, a chronicle of intimacy across the boundaries of life and death, a narrative of the acts of caretaking and honoring that sustain this relationship.
The video for the song features Kehlani dancing in unison with another figure as she sings about the persistent presence of the dead. It’s an acknowledgment of the role of spirit in the everyday, a choreography of remembering.
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