Dear Friend,
I’ve recently been thinking and talking about Jason Reynolds, the current National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature, with Robbie about how I feel and what I want my work to look like, feel like. I look at Jason’s output, his presence, his care, and I wonder how he does it.
He’s a supporting beam in DC.
He once bought all his books in DC so anyone could go to multiple bookstores and get a copy for free.
He showed up to help with construction at Mahogany Books.
He’s spoken at Creative Mornings at the start of the pandemic.
He’s also a big deal nationally. His writing is everywhere. He’s on all the podcasts. He made Stephen Colbert swoon (which looks like Stephen going quiet and letting a guest do their thing).
My kid, Pippin, loves his voice. Him and Hanif Abdurraqib are the only non-parent voices she really soothes to.
I got all nervous when we went to Reggie Black’s talk for Creative Mornings because I went to say hi to Amira (another swoon worthy friend) and then realized she was talking to JASON REYNOLDS and I panicked and sat down and waited for her to be done because omg JASON REYNOLDS. Then he sat sipping his iced coffee, waiting for the event to begin in a self-contained, present way that I just bailed on saying, “Watching Stephen Colbert fall in love with you was one of my favorite moments of the year.”
I look at him and I see a trap door to creativity thrown up. The river of life flowing out of him.
I think, “Shit. Where is my creative river of life?”
Then THEN he released a PODCAST. So rude to be skilled in yet another medium. My god, leave us alone already Jason! (jk don’t do that)
It’s a four part love letter to his mother, the person who made him. My Mother Made Me. So I sat down and listened with attention. No doing other things while taking this work in!
The whole thing is worth a listen. But the moment I want to talk about happens in the first episode. He’s over at his mom’s house for their Sunday time together.
JASON (in conversation): I don’t know. Just a lot going on. Every now and then, I had those times where I'm just like, you know? Overwhelmed. Every day, every week, you sort of wake up, you start your week, you put everything where it needs to be in your mind about all the things you have to do, all the people you have to do it for, all the work you have to do. All the… I mean, you know. You know this. You've done it your whole life.
ISABELL: Yeah.
JASON: And then sometimes… You just want to scream.
ISABELL: Yeah.
JASON (as narrator): But I don’t scream. At least, I try not to. However, I feel whatever the weight of a scream is in my body [emphasis Dana’s]. And I’ve been thinking a lot lately about where a person puts that weight. I mean, life is a lot of things, you know? Maybe it’s more accurate to just say, life is… a lot. I guess it’s this way for everyone, but I know it’s this way for me. Don’t get me wrong, there’s so much laughter. There’s So much joy, so much…
But there are just as many moments where I feel so much pressure, the skin on my face feels stretched from the tension of tears, almost to the point of splitting some imaginary seam that runs from widow’s peak to goatee. Days where one moment I’m basking in the weird affirmations of my life — that I’ve somehow made something of it — and I feel so useful to the world.
And then, shortly after, I feel, well — I feel used by the world. Completely depleted after giving whatever I have to whoever needs it … The truth is, I wouldn’t trade my life, for anything. And it is better than what I used to do. And I am grateful. But… I’m also human. Sure, I’ve seen and done things my family and many of my friends could’ve only dreamt of, but that don’t mean there’s not a heavy cost. So when what feels like the collective boot is upon my back, I always ask myself: Where, exactly, am I supposed to put the weight?
The weight of a scream.
I know this feeling.
Before this moment, I’d imagined Jason Reynolds as an artist in flow with the muse, the demands coming easy because they are just another expression and output of the practice, the daily repetition of language and community and showing up and caring and fostering the realtime glory of kids who know who they are and how to build the world.
Jason and me, our lives aren’t the same. The demands on me as mother, writer, business owner are often very private demands witnessed only by a few, whereas the demands he faces are public and relentless and tinged with the salt of fleetingness, here-today-gone-tomorrow.
And yet, there I am.
The weight of a scream is heavier some days than other. I mean this literally. Monday and Wednesday were both days defined by an itchy electric scream from every cell. Tuesday and Thursday were pretty cool.
I’m in this season of wondering who I am when my daily work is to keep a small human alive with milk from my actual body. Who needs my attention to know she is loved. To feel like I have to “request off” to get time to myself, whether to work or play or whatever.
And Jason Reynolds feels that too. Being open to the work doesn’t make the scream go away. The goal isn’t to rid oneself of the scream but to live with it, respond to it, learn from it. The artist with the door thrown open to the art does not suffer less for that open door.
JASON (in conversation): What am I supposed to do?
ISABELL: It’s nobody’s fault, baby. It's not what happens. It's how you react to what’s happening.
You know, you can either get all flustered and upset and blah-blah-blah-blah about it, or you can just take it in stride. And one thing for sure, it will work itself out. Always does.
And when you take your time, it works out to your benefit.
JASON: All right.
ISABELL: It does. It really does.
Isabell Reynolds is dreamy too. We all need her. I’ll be working on taking it in stride. Trusting it will work itself. Because, she’s right, it has before and will again.
With Love,
Dana
ps. There are typos, misspellings, grammatical errors and more in the above. With love and respect to your feelings, I don’t care. Don’t bother telling me about it.
THINGS I’M LOVING
Our Flag Means Death (HBO Max)
It’s like Muppet Treasure Island but adult, gay, and kiwi. What is not to love?
No sarcasm here despite what Blackbeard’s face might indicate in this gif.
This head banger by Maggie Rogers on repeat
Taylor’s Scottish Breakfast Tea
Looseleaf. Every day.