Yup, Lauryn is back on the blog. I don’t know why I always return to this song in the early morning hours when I’m frustrated, can’t sleep, unsettled, and anxious. I gotta find peace of mind…
I can feel a silence creeping up on me, crawling up from my chest, spreading its tentacles across my shoulders. It is reaching up my neck, wrapping around my throat. It almost has me.
If it could, silence would choke me. Forever.
I don’t know where it comes from. I am not the only one who has felt it–if I only knew what it was. This is obviously a problem for someone whose profession is focused on research, reading and writing. For someone who sees herself as a writer, an artist.
“For I feel that the new emphasis on literary critical theory is as hegemonic as the world which it attacks. I see the language it creates as one which mystifies rather than clarifies our condition, making it possible for a few people who now that particular language to control the critical scene–that language, surfaced, interestingly enough, just when the literature of people of color, of black women, of Latin Americans, or Africans, began to move to “the center.”“
Christian, Barbara. “The Race for Theory (1987).” In New Black Feminist Criticism, 1985-2000, edited by Gloria Bowles, M. Giulia Fabi, and Arlene R. Keizer, 250. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2007. (emphasis mine)