What is "power"?
Confidence? Resources? Control?
How does one acquire such power?
And what might one do to keep possession of it?
For the past ten weeks I've been considering the concepts of power and powerlessness using storytelling and movement; an exercise in embodied reflection. As in a few of my previous projects, I followed The Black Unicorn to the path, soundtracked by my life's experiences. Over the summer months, I had begun meditating again on the poetry of Audre Lorde: a piece entitled Power. The backdrop of the work is a story of a young Black child who is shot dead by a police officer (who was later acquitted by a jury). Although this is the setting for the poem, it goes deeper than a condemnation of police brutality. The poem goes on to illuminate the story of a lone Black woman who sits on the jury that is charged with the responsibility of holding the shooter accountable for his actions. The story is about the power that that singular Black woman holds in that particular moment and how system and circumstance beckons her to "let go the first real power she ever had." But Lorde doesn't stop there. She pushes further, inviting the reader to imagine how many systems, circumstances, or particular moments it might take for our own power to run corrupt, priming us for our own detestable abuses. This is where the process began.
I started our rehearsal process at the end; investigating the spaces and situations in which we might have an abundance of power. Beyonce, of course, is the epitome of empowerment, so when she and Nija sing, "They'll never take my power, my power, my power," it enlivens something in me that feels liberated and strong. Warrior-like in the protection of what I have found precious and valuable, and now have possession of. I feel like this is a familiar and accessible phenomenon to many who have been oppressed, abused, or relegated to a lower status.
We built backwards from there, invoking the tenacity of revolutionaries who have fought for possession of their own power with Public Enemy's Fight the Power. The song opens up with the voice of Chicago lawyer and activist Thomas ‘TNT’ Todd as he talks about Vietnam deserters who would rather “switch than fight.” It's the vital part of the story in which there is a recognition of abuse, and power is taken back from the oppressing party.
Up until this part of the process, the dancers had been tapping into the energy of those who have had their power stripped away; those who have had to fight for possession of what is valuable and precious. But how does one get to such a place? A place where we have to fight for what we feel is rightfully ours. To explore that, we had to go back to revisit how we acquire power in the first place.
In the beginning of the piece, power is like a firefly; small, magical, a bit mysterious. It's fun to chase and a challenge to obtain, but once in our grasp it's agonizing to relinquish. In fact, for fear that it might escape, we may tighten our grip, imprisoning it. Once we have it, what would we do to keep it? What lengths would we go through to ensure that we never are without it again?
I appreciated making this piece so much because, like the poem, it required me to look at the subject of power from multiple perspectives all at once but not from outside my own experience. Who am I in power? Who am I in powerlessness? More importantly, what truths lie between the two. I think that by exploring the in-between it's more possible to consider the reality of those on the "opposing" side, as we so rarely find ourselves standing squarely in one position or the other. I recognize that we're all constantly oscillating. In a world, in a country, in a community where everyone always feels like a "they," I think this is a necessary exercise.
P.S. - Here are some reflections from the process. I'm still working on using Embodied Storytelling as a pedagogical practice Recording these little 3 minute videos has been helpful in documenting what works, what doesn't work, what changes each time...
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