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AFROFUTUR(IS)T SURVIVAL GUIDE 🧚🏽♂️
Jade Lorra(i)ne Scott documents the journey of finding herself amidst herself in this visual journal.
published May 19, 2022
i was born. i was born 46 minutes to midnight, during a full moon, on a Friday, to a Leo and a Pisces. i could tell many stories and ink an autobiography filled with truth and dishonesty. But mostly, you should know that i was born. i am her(e), carrying and bearing every day. i was named. Middle name from my mother, and last name from my father. i’ve been consumed by who I’m supposed to be. Obsessed with how i can emulate her. Or how i can be perceived as her. i’ve had to be so many people and things to be seen and liked and loved. i’ve offered my love and food and legs and emotion for men who refuse to do it themselves. And in return i’ve gotten a glance, a smirk, 2 seconds of attention. i have been the glue and am tired of being sticky. I’m tired of being stuck. The younger me who longs for love and the words to express it reaches up from the inside. i think that i am not alone in this. i feel that others are with me.
i was born in Southfield to parents from Pine Bluff and Brooklyn. i don’t remember much of my childhood in Michigan. Maybe that’s a good thing. i remember being perceived as an exuberant, lively, curious child: my talkative and humorous nature warranting changed seating arrangements and the occasional parent teacher conference lecture. i was imaginative: i used to color coordinate my outfits, a different color each day. i changed my handwriting every year. i cried when India stabbed her hand with a pencil. i ate glue and stapled my finger. i was a leader. In the 3rd grade i banded a group of students together. During class we would rub paper and eraser together, collecting the scraps that were typically given a backhanded push to the floor. We molded the small pink scraps into balls and sold the eraser dust as “Sasha”. i started JJJJewelry with Harshini in 4th grade. The business fizzled, as many others did. My venus is in gemini. i would form a new crush every year and tell them on the last day of school (to avoid rejection of course). i still remember their names. i still remember my name. i guess i remember Michigan too.
i moved to Georgia in the middle of my 6th grade year. i adapted. i was funny. i observed people, learned what they liked. i mirrored them, and assumed it meant that they liked me. That’s a hard habit to break out of, being for other people. i think they want me to be me. i’ve been told i have a pure soul. i wonder what they see. i’ve been told i’m quiet. i wonder when that happened. i often ponder who i’m going to be. Or who i was… or both. i’ve come to realize that the solution doesn’t have to be so singular, so binary. i can move forward and backwards. i used to think that to find myself i needed to choose, pick one. Go forward or inward. Or inward then forward. i didn’t allow my growth to be disorganized. i have come to challenge those strict notions of what it means to come into myself.
Afrofuturism gives me permission to reject traditional suppressive norms and embrace difference, community, and emotion. It is a tool that reminds me to stop questioning self and start questioning system. To start relying on self and not system. Afrofuturism IS. There are a few tools you need to successfully navigate this world through an Afrofuturist lens. Glue, imagination, and question marks to name a few. So maybe it’s better to say you only need one thing that carries lots of things… like a bag or a book. Mostly, you need space: to feel, grieve, and reflect. Journals grant me the opportunity to do all three and more. To press back against confined spaces. The space i take up on the margins is growing uncomfortable. Herein lies not a solution, but a response: an amalgamation of me in different stages of life and learning. i work to honor the space that i take up and use, the many Me’s that make up this community. i think about young Jade. And what she wanted. And i’m proud of what we(she) created. So many of the questions i pose come from my inner child. She whispers, and Afrofuturism yells back.
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September 2024
- Sep 11, 2024 Stairway To Heaven: Dream Logic vs. Mythological Reclamation [How to Explain A World] Sep 11, 2024
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May 2024
- May 19, 2024 leap years, almost three months, some days May 19, 2024
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March 2024
- Mar 4, 2024 pilot light Mar 4, 2024
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June 2023
- Jun 13, 2023 Foreign Chaos [COP’s CITY/COP CITY] Jun 13, 2023
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May 2023
- May 24, 2023 ART EATS WORLD May 24, 2023
- May 20, 2023 Black Pomegranate May 20, 2023
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March 2023
- Mar 20, 2023 WHITE LIGHTERS: notes on memory, death, growth, and being 26 Mar 20, 2023
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February 2023
- Feb 4, 2023 THE BEAUTY OF SAMPLING Feb 4, 2023
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December 2022
- Dec 22, 2022 HOW WE SAVE THE WORLD Dec 22, 2022
- Dec 22, 2022 Bleeding Heart/Just What Happens Dec 22, 2022
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November 2022
- Nov 13, 2022 DEAR NIGGAS (letter for the black man) Nov 13, 2022
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September 2022
- Sep 10, 2022 DEAR CRONUS Sep 10, 2022
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August 2022
- Aug 11, 2022 THE WINTER PRODUCTION Aug 11, 2022
- Aug 8, 2022 HOWTOAPOLOGIZETOYOURSELF Aug 8, 2022
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July 2022
- Jul 22, 2022 WHO WILL CRY FOR THE LITTLE GIRL? Jul 22, 2022
- Jul 11, 2022 MY LIFE IN MUSIC: [ENTRY #00110100 00001010] Jul 11, 2022
- Jul 8, 2022 THE EASTSIDE BROKE MY HEART Jul 8, 2022
- Jul 7, 2022 a taste of “Through The Mud Grows The Lotus” Jul 7, 2022
- Jul 5, 2022 CARBON COPY Jul 5, 2022
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June 2022
- Jun 26, 2022 solo(ng) Jun 26, 2022
- Jun 19, 2022 BLACK TRUNK Jun 19, 2022
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May 2022
- May 30, 2022 KIND OF BLUE May 30, 2022
- May 19, 2022 AFROFUTUR(IS)T SURVIVAL GUIDE 🧚🏽♂️ May 19, 2022