Josh Poole is a student at Dabney S. Lancaster Community College and a food services worker at Washington and Lee University. He grew up outside a small town named Brownsburg, which is no larger than Lago from High Plains Drifter, and just as isolated. His photo features a quarter ton stegosaurus he made out of stumps, and a small cat named Elvis.
De noche todos los gatos son pardos. All cats are brown at night.
Again: Who is the other? Who is the enemy?
“My friends say I’m an activist but I don’t think I do enough things to be considered an activist. My storytelling is my resistance, it’s my defiance, it’s my self-care…”
I know that today was payday because your wallet bulges from the back pocket of your dusty Wal-Mart jeans. I know that your truck smells like sweat, like taco meat, like recently sprayed $5.99 musk for men because it was on sale. It’ll mask the smell of honest work, the smell of hunger, the smell of indiscretion.
“I paint myself because I am so often alone and because I am the subject I know best.” Frida Kahlo
I dig new graves for my ancestors who need burying. I dig new graves for myselves who need burying. I bury the rest like a seed, aligned to your light. Rising up with you. I do.
I was in the ninth grade, the only black girl in a classroom of white peers, when I learned the truth about slavery. At the time, I thought I knew all there was to know. No fault of my mother’s; she just didn’t have the heart to tell me the whole truth…
We must let our grief and our celebration, our individual experience, be our own. Because given the voice to speak our own way, we all have something distinct to say about our collective history and future…