Retreat provides space and time for Black women to be writers and artists – Press Enterprise

By Nikia Chaney | Contributing Columnist

Toni Morrison wrote “Beloved” during quiet moments when her children were asleep. Black women writers often find time for their art only in such quiet moments. Society rarely values these contemplative spaces for Black women artists.

Instead, modern media often portrays Black women writers as activists, their merit tied to the causes they champion. We see Angela Davis with her fist raised or Maya Angelou reciting in public. We seldom think about the act of writing itself, the need for rest, connection, rejuvenation and joy.

From May 23-27, my nonprofit, Jamii Publishing, and Wild Seed Poetry and Arts Collective hosted the first Black Women’s Writing Retreat in Oceanside. Our goal was simple: provide space and time for Black women to be writers and artists and to enjoy community.

It was glorious. When I first arrived at the beach house with Ginger Galloway, who worked tirelessly with Jamii on this grant, I felt a little spooked. The 13-bedroom, 13-bathroom house sat right on the water, with several balconies and a rooftop sitting space offering ocean views. It felt vast and empty before the participants arrived.

Once the women began arriving, the echoes in the hallways turned to laughter, footsteps to clapping. Even the sun seemed to join us. That first afternoon, we introduced ourselves: 19 Black writers, 19 Black women, 19 accomplished individuals. We shared our pain and our joy, illustrating the necessity for places of care. We breathed together, took time to give each other flowers, and waited patiently for every sister to speak. Listening to Christie Cruise’s and Martha Darr’s stories, I saw myself.

On Friday night, we all squeezed around the dining table. Our caterer, Rose Hart of Elements of Taste, served vegan soul food, centering the meal around those of us who are vegan. It was delicious because it was served with love. Ms. Rose later told me she was having as much fun as us, and it showed in everything she served.

Saturday morning began with a meditation led by Rachell Parker, followed by a workshop led by Ginger Galloway. Participants discussed what they needed and wanted to see, channeling Toni Morrison. I missed the workshop, having fallen asleep sunbathing on the patio. This was what we meant by rest and rejuvenation. We did not require the women to do anything but be. We naturally came together in community, giving Ms. Rose a treat when Tameeka Cage Conley invited her to join us.

I witnessed impromptu poetry readings in the hallway, healing and chanting at the beach, and long conversations. Malika Booker told the story of an elder’s saying, “Don’t trust a man who eats mango with his back teeth.” Almah Lavon Rice shared her story of finding worth with tears. Ginger recounted her encounter with a colorful man on the beach. Kuukua Yomekpe talked about her new restaurant. Yolanda Franklin kept us laughing. We shared poetry, food and ourselves as if we had always known each other.

There were moments of difficulty. One sister felt shut down, many of us cried, and three women couldn’t attend due to emergencies. We realized we needed more staff, and Lydia Theon Ware i hurt her foot. Life continued, but in that beach house, we were seen and heard in ways we seldom are.

By Sunday, we were sisters. We walked on the beach, Ryane Granados skipping and dancing while Desiree McCray posed like a goddess by the water. I talked about Black masculinity with Natalie Graham and about rest and joy with Cynthia Manick. These women, whose lives paralleled mine, shared the same needs and dreams. Sunday, I took some quiet time to write, my heart full. I thought about how far I’ve come as a poet, writer and teacher. I wished for more spaces like this — spaces that don’t ask of us but allow us to be.