Spacious Solidarity Blog: Day 98

My period’s over now so back to the daily report. This one will cover happenings over the last few days since I missed quite a bit while deep diving into all things Black Lives Matter.

On Sunday we went for a socially distanced double date bike ride and picnic with a friend and their girlfriend. We rode northeast to Hollow pond, a relatively small body of water in Waltham Forest.

We had planned to meet at the southeast corner of Millfield’s Park next to the canal but our friends were late. While waiting for them I decided to look for signs of colonialism and white dominance. It’s a new game I’ve been playing lately.

Even from this limited vantage point I can see a nearby pub called the Princess of Wales. Next to it is a boarded-up property where someone has spray painted:

RIP George Floyd

Black Lives Matter

Our friends arrive and we head out on the bike lane along Lee Bridge Road. We get to the pond and start to make our way around it, scoping out a spot to settle in for the afternoon.

The pond is surrounded by ancient trees and a rocky shore. Years of walkers and cyclists have carved paths along the shore that weave in and out of trees and undergrowth.

Always on the lookout for a perfect spot by the water, I race ahead of the group looking for some place with good sun exposure and enough privacy. But every time I think I’ve found it there are already people there.

Meanwhile, the trails are dipping up and down, some quite narrow and steep with low hanging branches above to duck, and exposed roots below to dodge. All of a sudden I feel like a racer on a dirt bike track, full of exhilaration as I navigate my way through the forest.

Struggling to find a spot, we begin to worry that we will have to settle for the large field east of the pond, but just as we are about to give up, I spot a small opening in the trees. A man and two children are stood on the shore throwing rocks into the water.

I ask the man if they are coming or going and he says they’re just hanging around for a bit. Would it be ok if we set up next to them? Sure, no problem.

Over snacks and beers our friends tell us the story of how they met and we talk around coronavirus, Black Lives Matter, queer politics and co-dependent lesbian dating culture. Before we know it it’s time to head home.

We get home and decide to take a bath and watch a movie. We settle on Queen and Slim, a 2019 film about a couple on their first date who end up killing a cop in self-defense and going on the run.

It’s a complex and heart-breaking film with incredible performances from both lead actors, Jodie Turner-Smith and Daniel Kaluuya. It’s also deeply prophetic, weaving in themes of racial profiling, police brutality, trust, protest, love, joy, and transformation.

At one point while on the run somewhere in the rural south, they stop at a jazz club to dance. Their official second date. It’s a gorgeous scene of Black joy in the face of extreme adversity, the two lead characters clearly falling in love as, unbeknownst to them, an admiring crowd looks on.

We’ve been watching the film in bed, exhausted from our bike ride and day in the sun. My partner’s fallen asleep about halfway through but I, as always, hang on until the end.

The next morning we decide to go for a walk in Abney Park. As we enter the park we hear music behind us that’s slowly getting louder. It’s coming from a Black teenager riding a turquoise bicycle that’s way too small for him, with a big wicker basket on the front.

He’s playing hip hop and smoking a joint and riding the bike in the most relaxed way possible, his legs splayed out to either side, knees bent, peddling slow and steady. He’s wearing a white and blue matching leisure suit, possibly velour.

I appreciate everything about him, the bike, his pace and relaxed demeanor, the leisure suit, and the joint hanging out of his mouth.

A bit further ahead we see a little white girl no older than three or four, with long, flowing brown hair on a tiny bike with no pedals. She’s wearing rubber wellies and pushing herself along with her feet until she’s gotten enough speed that she can rest them on little shelves either side of her seat.

She rushes passed us, heading straight for a group of women who are taking up the entire path ahead. As she quickly approaches they suddenly notice her and scatter to either side of the path. She stops abruptly and looks up at them with surprise.

You can tell she’s testing her power and has just learned that with enough force she can make a whole group of adults scatter simply by rushing them on her bike.

Later, as we’re weaving our way along one of the narrow side paths on the edge of the park we hear a rustling in the undergrowth. Peering through the leaves we realise it’s that same little girl, off her bike now and carrying an enormous branch.

We emerge onto the main path and see her present her branch to a woman I assume is her mother sitting on a nearby bench. The woman has a tiny baby strapped to her belly.

I immediately connect with this little girl, desperately trying to wrangle back her mother’s attention which she’s lost to her newborn sibling. I was her once and it was no fun at all.

The teenager on the turquoise bike passes us again, this time rocking out to some old school jazz and moving even more slowly than before.

We decide to leave the park from the Church Street exit so we can stop at the shop to pick up a few bits and pieces. Luckily there is no line or crowds and we get in and through no problem.

On the way home we pass my friend’s shop. I notice the door is open and look inside to see her and her husband bent over a table at the back, her young children playing on the floor in the middle of the shop.

The rest of the space is completely empty. They have been remodeling and have just finished laying new tiles on the floor.

I yell out a hello and they come to the door to talk to us. My friend introduces me to her daughter who is wearing a pale blue princess dress, complete with taffeta and jewels. She asks us if we’re going home and I say yes and I love your dress.

They are going to have a painting party soon so I offer to help out. Am I good at filling in cracks? Yes, I love doing that. I’m a Virgo, after all.  

We’re rushing home now so I can get on Zoom for my course on Harriet Tubman and the Dharma. Spring Washam, the teacher, is talking about how Black Lives Matter is working on her like a Zen koan. Cutting right through and interrupting the programme of white supremacy.

She’s talking about how we have to sit in it, the koan of Black Lives Matter. How by interrupting the programme we are liberating ourselves from the script, which is ultimately a joyful act.

That ultimately it’s about seeing more and more clearly where and how we feel separate so we can heal the wounds of separation. Liberate the energy bound up there into wise, clear perspective.

She’s talking about how the Buddha also saw through the programme of caste, which was also based on skin colour. It occurs to me that the Buddha was the first Black Lives Matter activist.

I realise this is why I am drawn to this work, because it is deeply and intimately linked to my karmic inheritance as a disciple of the Buddha. Not separate from my practice, but inherent to its fruition.