THE BEND IN THE ROAD

We thought it would come quietly,
the final bend in the road;
we shored ourselves up, with
pots of tea, evening crackers
and Sunday nights in Downton Abbey.

Seventy-four years ago,
you walked down the aisle with me;
a pair of jaundiced eyes wouldn't keep
you from marrying me.

Sometimes the morning light
catches the emerald in my ring;
my fingers catch the chords of notes
you liked to hear me play.

Here we are, you and I,
a litte stuck today -
I, tucked up in our bed,
and you, in your room,
many miles away.

But the lamp is on,
and when tomorrow comes,
beside you, I will stay.

I wrote this poem last year for my beloved Mary on John's 95th birthday. These are wrenching times for Mary, because she is separated from John, who is too ill to live at home anymore. Five days after their wedding John left to be with the RAF, but then he came back, and then the children came, and then, and then... life... all of life. And then one day Mary met my father, who was a medical student of John's at Addenbrooke's, the same hospital I now haunt. And then years later she met my mother. More years passed. And then my brothers and I. I was fifteen and my life has been the richer, the more beautiful, the truer for her friendship. Lucky, lucky me. 

linked to dverse poets open night...

BRITISH VOGUE, ADWOA ABOAH AND PRIVILEGE

Today the new cover of British Vogue under the new leadership of Edward Enninful was released. 

While many people have expressed pure appreciation for the choice of the model, Adwoa Aboah, some (the Daily Mail contingent, and others) have decided that this choice in model was too 'safe', she is too 'light-skinned' - Eddinful should have been 'braver', gone 'darker'. 

The concept of light skinned privilege is a very complex negotiation - and also very basic. People seem to forget the ‘one drop’ policy whenever convenient. But if you are black in any measure, you don’t get white skinned privileges. You are forever playing Double Dutch. Neither community will fully accept you, but one community will historically always keep you guessing as to whether you are accepted or not. Since that is no way to live, most ‘mixed race’ (a bizarre, misleading term because it implies a 'pure' race exists, which of course does not since race is purely a construct, and not a biological reality) or perceived light skinned people, will inevitably gravitate towards the people of colour they are also representative of. Barack Obama’s half whiteness was embraced by many white folk because he was an excellent human being but had he been less than excellent his blackness would have been the only perception. Halle Berry may look light skinned but she has experienced racism her whole life. I may be perceived as light skinned as compared to darker South Asians but I have also been described as 'coloured' and 'black'. No one actually aspires to whiteness - we all aspire to equality, to equal human rights, to equal representation in positions of power as well as ordinary positions of being a bus driver or a teacher. It’s all a sliding scale from the outside so who you are within is what you have to hold on to.

The idea that Enninful chose Aboah because she’s light skinned is laughable. They are both Ghanaian. Aboah is not just ‘known for being light skinned and having freckles’, she is an incredibly brave and outspoken person, who has battled addiction for years and finally created Gurls Talk, a space for young girls, especially but not exclusively in the modelling world, to be able to talk about things like drugs and self harming - these girls are totally unprotected and unchaperoned, especially when they travel, and many fall victim to all sorts of exploitation. Aboah is also bipolar and actively involved in the mental heath campaign Heads Together - here is a brief YouTube clip of her talking to her mother on the subject of depression...

So Enninful’s choice of Aboah is far more nuanced than the colour of her skin. I think he is giving her a huge platform because he believes her voice needs to be more widely heard.

ON AGEING

I think I know this:

I could be happy at 80.

Or perhaps 81, 

When I am safely on board. 

This being in my thirties

Is neither here nor there

And waiting for forty 

Is a certain death.

Death to youth. I know this

Because I keep getting told this.

You are not young,

Anymore. They say.

As though I was curious

As to what I was. 

(c) Shaista Tayabali, 2017 

(Poetry prompt for Dverse Open Link Night) 

Today happens to be my friend Sylvia's birthday - one of those 'big 0' numbers that have to be faced down every ten years... Sylvia is a cyclist, a cartographer, a mathematician, a feminist, a gardener, a reader, a thinker - oh also wife, mother and grandmother but really, what has her age to do with anything? Her Sylvia-ness is everything. Sylvia and her delightful husband Colin live in a magnificent five hundred year old farmhouse, and each timber frame is guarded by Old Man Rayner, who watches over my friends with care and looks with equal care, possibly suspicion, at outsiders walking past his giant iron shoulders.