An Invitation to Listen
What are the sounds of your needs?
This past weekend I was invited by Mindy Seu and the Washington Project for the Arts to be a Keynote Listener at the “How Can We Gather Now?” symposium. Other Keynote Listeners included Mayah Lovell and Fabiola Ching of dykes day, collaborators who I had the absolute pleasure of seeing in person for the first time in years. We embraced each other in one of those familial hugs and I listened for the time that had passed. I attended the “Conjuring for kitchens, dancefloors, and the cosmos” session organized by Mēlani N. Douglass in conversation with Nzinga Tull and I listened for the ancestors in the room joining in the collective laughter and reverberating relief as the sound of punk music traveled (as it does) from down the hall and softly trickled in from under the door. At lunch we broke pita bread, feasted on salmon, and savored the sweetness of brownies and conversation while talking about the failures of the state, wealth redistribution, and how the shape of fear often mirrors the absence of social affordances and I listened for all the bodies that should have been at the table but weren’t invited.
This invitation to be a Keynote Listener is transforming my practice in ways I wasn’t prepared to anticipate. On the ride home I listened to all my anxieties about leaving the symposium early. I always have a 3-4 hours max capacity for these kinds of conference style gatherings. That day, I helped hold intimate moments with my mom sharing family updates best disclosed in person and I listened to my guilt about this being my first visit back home since Christmas despite only being a 2 hour drive away. I spent most of Saturday with my childhood best friend alongside the audio of Lola Brooke and cracking crab legs as we caught up after weeks of missing our weekly check-ins and I listened for everything we’d never share. This weekend I listened for all we don’t have the words for, all we’re unprepared to feel. The pain in my back from the previous day lingered, I listened for relief. I listened for all the things that could never be named, only sung if our bodies were invited to the table.
What I appreciated most about the “How Can We Gather Now?” symposium was how it centered an activation of the sensorium — there was drumming, film, karaoke, conjuring, umami, song, and soil. Over the next few weeks I’ll be working with the data of the symposium to contribute to its textual and visual archive alongside the other Keynote Listener’s notes. As an experimental data researcher, gatherer, and composter I am stumbling away still processing, still tangled in thought, still longing for all those who weren’t invited, still curious about all the data we leave on the floor. What does my grief taste like? What does my desire smell like? What is the texture of my fear? What do my needs sound like? How can we gather now and what does that look like? This weekend presented a portrait of possibility. Now I’m listening for the data my sensorium is inviting me to sweep up, information my body has gifted me that I have so often left on the floor. Begging to be invited to the table, it turns out the needs of my body are loud as fuck. Maybe I’ll sing about them one day.