Dreaming as a Radical Tool for Liberation

“Part of the problem has been a narrowing of what is political possible. Over the years the broad spectrum of Black political life has been whittled down to what some take to be the only acceptable form of Black politics- Black liberalism. This has involved an all out assault on our radical political imaginations. All we are left to do is tinker with the current system.”

Eddie Glaude, Democracy in Black

Dreaming is my superpower. Imagining new ways we can live in this world? Whew. That is my soul work. And your soul work- that’s only accepted in special places. Places like the Mystic Soul 2019 Conference. You might remember them as the space responsible for one of my favorite pieces of writing: 6 Black Queers in an Air BnB. The theme this year was Radical Wholeness, and I presented this workshop on dreaming.

And before you say anything- YES. I should be paid for this work. Here is my PayPal and Cashapp if you want to back up your talk about me being paid for my work. Yes I give longer workshops for individuals and groups that take dreaming further and deeper. But this workshop will remain on the Medium platform. I wanted as many people to have access to it as possible. Why? Because this is my soul work. And soul work does this thing where it demands to be shared. I am SURE of dreaming as a tool for liberation. And if I can help anyone dream a little easier, a littler more radical, a little more free- Im glad to do it.

Talk to yall soon

Part One: Who taught you to hate your dreams?

• What is dreaming?
• The strategy of suppressing dreams
• The strategy at work

What keeps you from imagining possibilities?

FURTHER: What makes you see injustice and look for logical explanations for it?

Part Two: Reclaiming your imagination

• Reframing
• Productivity is not an emotion
• Building a ritual of rest

Dream Affirmations

*The title, “Hold Fast to Dreams” Comes from the first line of Langston Hughes’s poem, “Dreams”.

Hold Fast to Dreams* was originally published in sunnydaejones on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

You are not a monitor of Black people’s behavior

Summer is my least favorite time of year for multiple reasons. My hair sticks to my neck. I cant bury myself under my covers at night. I always forget I’m wearing makeup, wipe my sweaty forehead with my shirt and get foundation all over my clothes. And more Black people are outside. And Black people wanting to exist in public space? That doesn't go over well with white people who would rather us be invisible. I hold my breath every summer. I spend a season in anxiety, hoping that no one calls the police on a Black person for daring to exist in the sun. Its not enough for me to tell you not to call the police on us. At this point, most people reading this already know that. Lets go further.

White people need to hear this, clearly and often: You are not appointed monitors of Black people’s behavior.

Remember hall monitors? Elementary schools often picked monitors to roam the building- they were “good” students with orange belts who patrolled the halls and reported bullying or rule breaking behavior to teachers or principals. As adults, we were all expected to be hall monitors post 9/11. One of the most famous campaigns of the anti-terrorism movement is, “if you see something, say something.”. We feed into the idea that we are all responsible for keeping our communities safe. But who exactly are you keeping your community safe from? Take 3 seconds, now- and imagine what a dangerous person looks like.

Right.

Whiteness means you have a warped idea of safety. If most white people were honest, their idea of a safe community is one that is absent of Black people. So when you’re forced into community with us, you become the monitor. The person who would rather be safe than sorry. The person who roams the halls just to make sure everything is okay. But that is not community safety. That’s called surveillance. You were not appointed by anyone. It is not, nor has it ever been, your job to monitor the behavior of Black people.

White people also need to hear this, clearly and often: Not getting what you want is not an emergency.

Black people are at our best in summer. The fashion, the music, the porch gossip, the church anniversaries, the hard earned vacations, the family reunions- the noise. Juneteenth! But for some reason, the way we live our lives in the summer is a nuisance to white people- and there is nothing more dangerous to a Black person’s safety, than a white person who is annoyed. Remember: whiteness means you have a warped sense of safety. Whiteness means you deeply underestimate how safe you are, and you overestimate anything you see as a threat to your safety. TRANSLATION: Because you are rarely physically unsafe, you reduce physical unsafely to a feeling of general discomfort- that’s called being annoyed. You mistake being annoyed for your lives being in danger. And you mistake police for a service you can use to make your nuisance go away. But you are not entitled to a nuisance-free life, nor are you entitled to obedience simply because you nicely informed us that your wants should be our priority. Most of the time, calling the police is a knee jerk reaction to being told “no”. You are the hall monitor, throwing a tantrum at the kid who dared to speak the truth that rings throughout the school halls: you cant tell me what to do.

If you’re white, I need you to write out all the things that annoy you, and accept that in most cases Black people have had the police called on them, or worse, for most of the things you wrote down. Then, I need you to recall all the times you’ve been given a firm “no” to something you wanted, and ask yourself how you wanted to react. What is the price someone should pay for you being told “no?” Safety for you might mean a lot of things, but safety for Black people, looks like you being honest about all the ways whiteness creeps into how you expect to experience the world. Later, I’ll write about some specific things you can do instead of calling the police in any circumstance. I’ll write about what actual community safety could look like. But I can’t do any of that until you take off your orange belt. Take off your orange belt, and start exploring who you would be without it.

Talk to yall soon.

Follow me here and on Twitter @sunnydaejones . You can support me for anything that has been really helpful for you through PayPal and Cashapp.

Jameelah Jones

The Kid in the Orange Belt was originally published in sunnydaejones on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Would you let go of homophobia if it meant all Black people could be free?

I remember where I was when I found out Nipsey Hussle had been killed. I was sitting in a plant store with a group of some of my favorite Black women; and most of us were queer. I anticipated the complicated feelings many Black queer people would have in light of Nipsey Hussle’s homophobic comments last year. I had them myself. Community investment, job creation for artists and creatives, clothes and jobs for formerly incarcerated people? Whew. I identify with so many of the dreams Nipsey Hussle had for the Black community. AND I saw the comments he made (and his apology afterward). Ironically, with each passing day, his words became less important to me. Why?

Because I couldn’t take watching people I loved and respected let their indifference to us show, expecting their grief to give them a pass. And what hurt the most was the indifference. With each “not the time” or “be respectful” or “not everyone will agree, people sent a clear message-that the Black LGTBQ people you encounter in your daily lives were not as important as a Black heterosexual man you never knew.

The main reason this indifference to LGBTQ people was justified? Nipsey Hussle had big dreams for the Black community. Dreams they shared with him- Black queer people’s mixed reactions became an insult to their desire to carry the torch in Nipsey’s honor. But you can’t carry a torch with a homophobia in one hand. Would you let go of homophobia if it meant all Black people could be free?

MY POINT: The dreams you have for the Black community are impossible without Black Queer people.

Don’t believe me? Follow me for a second:

Your dreams for Black mental health

After articles like these, I’d support almost any effort that is geared toward improving the mental health of Black people. We have responded to the need for healing from racial trauma with initiatives that seek to address Black mental health in wholistic ways. But the counseling center you wanna open? The shelter you wanna open?This cannot happen without an understanding that Black LGBTQ people are more likely to be in need of the resources you wanna provide. Look at this report on LGBTQ Black youth.Look at this report on trans and gender nonconforming people in the South. Any initiative focused on Black mental health must be aware of the specific mental health struggles of Black LGBTQ people if it has any hope of being successful.

Your dreams for Black entertainment

Every time a mediocre white film wins an Oscar, it is perfectly okay to say, “We need our own entertainment.” And we do. In fact, some of the top writers, producers, and directors right now are Black women and yes-Black queer people. The entertainment industry is moving (inching along) towards LGBTQ inclusion. Some of the top poets and writers of this generation are Black and Queer. Yall- Beyonce Giselle Knowles — Carter is a supporter of LGBTQ people. Mr. Ratburn got married to a man last week! Black entertainment has always had Black Queer influence (to put it mildly). And now, Black entertainment that is Queer exclusive will be shelved for more dynamic stories that represent more of us.

Your dreams for Black education and publications

Education is my personal passion, so I’m always excited to hear people talk about how badly Black people need independent systems of education. But remember the report about Black queer kids? How is your school liberating Black children if you wont address one of the main reasons Black LGBTQ children are struggling in school? As for Black publications? Some of THE most knowledgeable education innovators- the ones already building the change you want? Queer. As far as publications, the premier publications for radical Black content? Managed and run by Black queer people. The future of Black radical education is being led by the same people who are erased from dominant Black culture.

Your dreams for Black buying power

I am not as invested in this next point, because I don’t believe that Black capitalism is the answer to anything. You can’t get through a conversation about Black liberation without talking about Black people and money. “Our buying power is 1 trillion dollars!” is a statistic often given as an example of why Black businesses should be started and supported. But did you know LGBTQ buying power is just as high? Furthermore, 20% of millenials and 33% of GenZers identify as LGBTQ. What am I saying? If you’re expecting a homophobic Black business to flourish? It wont. If you’re expecting to partner with multi million dollar brands with homophobic “opinions”? You won’t. If you’re expecting your brand to survive your homophobic “opinions”? It wont.

Your dreams for Black love, relationships, and communities.

Ive never seen love like the love between Black Queer people. Black Queer ppl have broken “love” down beyond gendered Instagram cliches. We love our friends and partners in a way most people swear is impossible. The liberated relationships, outside of binaries and expectations? Dreams that Black cishet spaces have for what our love and relationships could look like? They are already taking shape in Black Queer spaces.

I don’t mean for any of this to sound like you should only be inclusive of Black LGBTQ people as a smart business move. I need you to understand that these are tangible dreams for us, but we cant get there without a commitment to ALL Black people. This is meant to move beyond an abstract, philosophical idea of that. This is meant to show you, in very concrete ways, that the dreams we have for the Black community are impossible without Black Queer people.

TO RECAP: I couldn’t help but be moved by the amount of people who committed to continue his work in the wake of Nipsey Hussle’s death. A commitment to carrying the torch is the most noble commitment to make in honor of someone who gave so much of himself to the Black community. But there are torches that need to be dropped if any of our dreams are to become a reality. Black queer people already know this. So for Pride Month this year, I let’s work harder to carry the torch for Black LGBTQ people- not because we were forced to, but because we know that we ALL must be free for our Black community dreams to be a reality.

Carry the Torch was originally published in sunnydaejones on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

In 2017, I was diagnosed with severe adult Attention Deficit Disorder. (ADD). I’d spent my whole life thinking that my A.D.D symptoms were character flaws- things that would keep me from having the life I wanted. I published a thread on Twitter about my diagnosis, and discovered that many people, specifically Black millenials, were dealing with adult ADD.

This is the space where you’ll find my journey living with ADD. Medication and therapy updates, general thoughts about living with ADD as a Black woman, and strategies I have used to cope. My goal with this section of my site is to provide a space to see my own growth, but more importantly, I hope to show other Black people living with ADD that they aren’t alone.

If you've found this page and are eagerly looking for even more information, here are some resources that have helped me. Not like, “this was nice” kind of helped. I mean, these are the things that changed my day to day functioning with ADD

ADDitudeMag- This publication has so many resources that I cant even name them all.

HowToADHD — this YouTube channel has been so important in my journey to understanding what ADHD means for my life.

Passion Planner — Passion Planner is the planner that changed the game. It has everything I needed to keep my life together now and in the future. You can also download a PDF version to try for free!

Thank you so much for taking the time to read.

Jameelah Jones

#SunnydaeFocus was originally published in sunnydaejones on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I’m a storyteller. In as many forms as I can, I tell stories. This is the section of my publication where I’ll share my poems, short stories, and occasionally, excerpts of research papers I’m writing. I enter my poetry. Occasionally, I enter my poems and short stories into contests . So far I have won the Langston Hughes Creative Writing Award and I’ve been a fellow with the Poetry Incubator, a partnership with the Crescendo Literary and The Poetry Foundation.

NOTE: Writing competitions and research journals usually have a rule for what they call “simultaneous submissions”. It means you cant have work that you've submitted to them, submitted or visible in other places. Translation- Sometimes I will remove a poem, story, or research paper from this page if I decide to submit them somewhere. I won’t do this often, to keep content accessible to you. I’ll place the citation at the bottom of each piece, in case you'd like to cite it in your work. CITE MY WORK IF YOU USE IT.

All accompanying artwork is created by Just Jay Designs unless otherwise noted.

Enjoy my stories. Thanks so much for reading.

Jameelah Jones

#SunnydaeStories was originally published in sunnydaejones on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

#Further — The Introduction

I love teaching and writing on platforms. For awhile now, that’s been happening on my Twitter and Facebook pages. The bigger theme of my most of my social media posts — I’m always telling people to go further. To imagine that there’s more that can be done. You read the New Jim Crow. Now what? You respect (most) women- now what? You understand that racism exists and that you benefit directly from it- now what? You realize that your corner of the world cannot continue as you know it, but you don’t know what to do next. Your interest has now become a sense of urgency- and you need a community that shares this urgency, and is ready to get creative and risky with you. You’re in the right place.

The #FURTHER section of this publication is going to be an extension of my my social media posts. When you click on a Facebook post and it opens a new tab to a long essay? Or if you open Twitter to find 1/? to start off a 22 tweet thread? From now on, those posts will end up here.

If you like them, you can support me financially here with PayPal or here with Cashapp.

If you want more consistent #Further content, subscribe to my Patreon. Patreon is where you will find audio content, worksheets, and discussion questions in addition to my posts.

This is a learning and (un) learning place. Thank you so much for engaging this content with me. Lets go #FURTHER together.

Jameelah Jones

#Further — The Introduction was originally published in sunnydaejones on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Support me

Hello again. Thank you so much for checking out my publication. This is the page that answers the following questions-

How can I support Jameelah’s work?

Does Jameelah give talks or presentations? Does she offer any other services?

How do I book Jameelah for a thing?

So if those are your questions, you’re in the right place!

How can I support Jameelah’s work?

Always a good question. You can “tip me” for anything that has been really helpful for you through PayPal and Cashapp.

Does Jameelah give talks or presentations? Does she offer any other services?

I offer:

• Writing
• Race and gender justice training
• Poetry readings and speaking engagements

Jameelah sounds great! How do I book her for something?

Send an email to this address: jameelahjones0608@gmail.com. Put “Booking” in the subject line.

Of course, if you have any #Further questions, feel free to email me at the address below. Put “booking question” in the subject line.

Thank you so much for stopping by!

Jameelah Jones

Book Me was originally published in sunnydaejones on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I went to a Conference called Mystic Soul- a resting place for misfit spiritual people of color who are finding their way in the world. This is the true story about where I lived while I was there.

On the first day, My Uber driver’s name was Anthony, and he took me through Lakeshore Drive, and talked to me about the best parts of the city. When we arrived at the apartment, we almost missed it- this is when I’m reminded that I don’t know how cities work. The apartment was on a regular looking road, above a place that taught Karate four days a week. I sent a message to the group, panicked that I’ve missed the address. Out comes Willow-in a pair of shorts and the glasses I knew far too well from their Instagram photos. I’m still not sure if the rush that hit me when I opened the car door was the Chicago cold or the happiness from seeing Willow again. We had connected two years ago, at a Christian conference that promised more love than it delivered. A white God can only go so far in the protection of Black bodies. We hugged much longer than we need to, our hug clearly a substitution for all of our words, each adjustment of our bodies like the start of a new sentence. “Come on in from the cold.” they said.

The apartment wasn’t entirely special- it was a solid option from an episode of House Hunters- hardwood floors, two full bathrooms, and a large open living space and kitchen. It smelled like someplace between a hotel and a home. We were comforted by the obvious Blackness of our host space-African masks and ceramic figurines lined the walls and tables. There was a photo of Tommie Smith and John Carlos’s Black Power Fist at the 1968 Olympic Games. Our eyes relaxed at the sight of familiar.

Willow had arrived first. True to their form, they messaged the rest of the group with tidbits of important information to assuage our anxieties. “The place is nice.” “Its right next to a bakery.” “There’s a liquor store up the street”. “Its right next to a police station.”The rest of the family trickled in throughout the day, each entering with the same rush of exhaustion and wonder. Cherry was staying somewhere else, and decided to spend most of their time with us. They eventually decided to stay, after already having paid to live somewhere else. Bamboo arrived with a bellowing voice that shook the sky. The spirit of the room shifted closer towards freedom-the authenticity bar had been raised. Oak arrived on the last day, they secured a home in another place, but after a series of mix ups, had nowhere to spend the last night in town.

As we unpacked, the armor we used to keep us safe on our journeys formed an altar on the edge of the counter. I gathered the offerings and moved toward the entrance of the house. I took the scarf from my head and laid it on a coffee table, then assembled the altar we created. Is this what spirituality feels like? Organic development of the presence of God? Tarot cards, crystals, sage, oils, keys, pennies, and anything else worth honoring was arranged in its rightful place, and remained for the three days we lived there.

I slept in bed with the most gentle person I’ve ever known. We did not wish for anything but the intimacy of living, breathing, sleeping so close to safety. We shared songs, stories, and dreams. We asked each other if there was anything on our minds we couldn’t go to sleep without saying. Is this what love is? Consistent subtle affirmation of your truth?

On the second day, as we fell into our routines, I noticed how much we apologized. It was second nature, the way we did it. “I’m sorry, did I bump you?” “Did I wake up too loudly?” “Did I wake up too softly?” “I don’t mean to walk so hard”. “Do you mind if I cook?” “Can I help you?” “Do you mind naked bodies?”. “I’m about to process this, but I am trying to tell you all that I might maybe need to go and be alone if that’s okay.”Is this what they mean by repentance? Embodying apology? Taking a posture that assumes your being to be burdensome? We worked so hard not to make our existence an imposition. To break in ways that were for the good of the whole. We found such creative ways to apologize for living.

Perhaps, because of such a posture of burden, the gentleness of our home was like nothing I have ever witnessed. It was like each of us had taken a silent vow not to take our collective breaths for granted. Every room felt soft, as if the builders mixed a handful of mercy into the plaster that made the walls. I remember coming outside of myself. In that house, I had no bones. I had no blood. I became so much of everything… that I drifted into a beautiful nothing. Is this what freedom is? To be so comfortable that you become a space. To be so normal that you become neutrality?

I’m sure the others think this is the world they belong to, but our home was so much more than privilege built from violence. We did not wish to conquer one another. Our home was 15 steps from a division of the Chicago Police Department. It was a giant, industrial looking building that I can’t remember all that much. I wasn’t afraid. Not for a second. I dared them, in fact, to cross the invisible line I had drawn between their world and ours. Just once, I wanted to witness the combustion of terror. Just once, I wanted to witness evil crumbling under the weight of our joy. Could this be what freedom is? When you are so happy that you could give a single solitary fuck about the things that scare you the most?

On the third day, we went to dark places in our personal journeys, and separated to gather ourselves again. We did not project our pain onto each other; instead we made our needs known and held each other’s hearts, massaging the tension away with the honor we had for our respective paths. We attempted to dance and play games, which worked for awhile, but the rooms called for more- for us to ask ourselves how we would live outside of oppression. When the room is devoid of pain, do you need the earthly rituals you use to sooth yourself?

On the fourth day, it was time to leave our new home, to return to the ones we knew. Elm brought us back to reality. Elm- the 6th, was with us someplace else. Their family had forbidden them to come to the conference. As we broke down the altar, we pressed its energy toward Elm- praying for physical presence- for Elm’s home place to travel to them next time. We sat in the loss of our new home, as it slowly became the rented apartment we knew. I remember thinking that the carriage had become a pumpkin again. I packed my bags, in disbelief that I was leaving. We held back our tears for each other. We promised to keep in touch. We took pictures to freeze our heaven in time.

In the car, on the way to the airport, I got a message: “I’m sorry if I squeezed too tight while I was hugging you goodbye”.

Jameelah Jones lives many places and loves many things. She is misfit Christian finding her way. Cite me properly. Follow me on Twitter @sunnydaejones

How to survive in the margins when the coin doesn’t come

I wrote a letter to myself that I plan to read on days like today. On days when Im made to feel like… like my work doesn’t matter. When I feel like as long as there is someone to tell white folks that Black people like me are doing it wrong… I might not survive.

Hello you dear, remarkable, peculiar, anxious, out of control, divine being:

About Digital Space

Always hold digital space in the esteem it deserves. Specifically, the people who work in digital spaces. For most, closed doors, glass ceilings, and all the other metaphors for inaccessible space are made just a bit more manageable by a Facebook post, a Twitter thread, or a body positive Instagram account. You will NEVER forget the digital space that you needed (and still need). This is more than the white corporate “watch what you post or you won’t get hired” speech. No, my dear. This is your reminder that to some, digital space is sacred space, is community space, is healing space. And the real people who occupy it are never to be discounted. Retweets have saved TV shows and found endangered children, and helped oppressors unlearn. Digital activism has fundamentally changed the way we ‘do the work”.

ALSO- It’s wildly ableist and classist to discount digital activism in any way. To do so is to claim that there is a hierarchy to what work is and what isn’t.

About Labor

Know that although you are incredible, valuable and MORE than enough, value is rarely yours to assign. Specifically, it is never your place to decide whose labor deserves to be compensated. Remember when you had to crowdfund your dreams. Remember the miracle 40 dollars that appeared when you were on your last bag of brown rice and your mom had no more savings to give you. Remember that crowdfunding, specifically funding for one-on-one educational work, is the grassroots activism many are afraid to do. It is the “improper” activism that exposes a person’s true desire to meet the needs of the people. It is to say that poverty is not a punishment for poverty. It is to push the boundaries of the capitalist, corporate, business model definition of labor. It is to say that the community is fragile when just ONE of us lacks absolutely anything.

ALSO- Always remember that all Black folk DESERVE to be paid for their labor. And the folks who use Paypal are often the Black queer, trans, and poor women we all claim to care about. Don’t tell women to get their coin, but only in the way you approve. That’s not support- that classim rooted in the narrative of African American women as lazy welfare queens who abuse decent peoples’s hard earned money.

About anger

Never cease to be angry. Never cease to be moved to tears, to cursing, to teeth grinding, to a Facebook drag. Always be moved to seemingly useless anger at the cyclical nature of oppression. There is more than enough contempt for the angry to go around. If you ever want to know how you feel about Black people, track your reaction when you are angry at us. Don’t get angry with Black folks and then remember that it’s okay to call us niggers. When you are angry, own your anger. But do not succumb to the aggression that whiteness has taught you.

ALSO- It’s easy to condemn angry folk when you don’t have a lot to be mad about. If you’re ever more pressed by the anger than the oppression that causes it-quit calling yourself an activist. You’re a popular Black person who chooses to be helpful at their leisure-nothing more.

About Decisions

Sometimes, you will have to decide what life you want to live. You’ll have to decide, in a moment, who you are going to be. You have made the wrong decision before. You’ve chosen to be the one who gossiped, who lied, who ran away. You defended and hid in the blanket of your popularity. But hopefully, the folks, YOUR folks that are so confidently discounted will teach you differently. Your folks will help you create a new family. A new dynamic. A new way to walk through the world that is complicated and humbling. Hold your folks close and hear them when they say you’re on some bullshit. And fix it. Heal in the way you once needed and will need again.

ALSO- Be human. Snatch your humanity from the jaws of those who seek to eat you alive. Live the clichés that people clap for.

And if the applause stops, if the checks never clear, if agents don’t come knocking…If the coin never comes because this is the path you chose, let that be okay.

Jameelah does work. She has a degree in African and African American studies and a degree in English. She writes poetry. Shes a misfit Christian who keeps her anxiety in check with family, poetry, planning, pageants, and writing.

https://www.paypal.me/JameelahJones

What becomes of the rubble when all the superheroes have gone away?

When the day has been saved, only to make way for a dark, and terrifying night?

How do you rebuild with no plan? Do you trust that old supplies will not replicate the only systems they know?

How do you rebuild with nothing more than a broken shovel, a pile of chipped bricks and an OPEN sign from a business that's now a parking lot of shambles?

Open to who? Open where? Open how? Open for what?

What does it mean to face the reality that once the villain is defeated… everything you know is gone?

And what becomes of the ones we lost in the battle? Do we build as we bury?

Do we rebuild with concrete mixed with water and ashes?

Do we do nothing and call our work remembrance?

What becomes of the rubble when all the superheroes have gone away?

Written by Jameelah Jones, during (A)rise in Power convergence. February 9–12th, 2017.