Hope And Her Two Daughters
Short Film
Untitled
The world is shit and grey
Is obviously not what I’m going to say
I am going to talk to you about how much I love to dance
I’m not very good but it gives me a chance
To release
To revive
To re-energise my body.
God I really miss that feeling
The molecules in the air connecting strangers
Blasting beats in different chambers
The loneliness engulfs me
I’m drowning in a lagoon
If I think too much I’ll hit the bottom soon…
I’m trying to talk to you about the beautiful things
but when the world is so clouded by injustices, I’m dumbfounded
Because right now I can’t help but talk to you about how grey it actually is.
How can we pretend that dancing and this stuff is enough, to make the grey go away.
We can, however, rearrange the music, the noise
Discover a way to find beauty and poise
Because theres beauty in the power of using my voice
there’s beauty in my anger, in making a choice
To talk to you, because we are under attack.
When stagnation and loneliness covers a nation
We are under attack
When a woman is killed for walking alone
We are all under attack
When a woman is shamed and defamed coz her mother happens to be black
We are all under attack
There is beauty in the courage to fight
To use our words with all our might
To say that this is not alright
To pray that one day, the world will be bright, not grey.
Let’s turn our dance to a fighting call
A haka of courage, bring injustices to a fall.
Sandie von Brockdorff
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The following poetry submissions were inspired by the following quote from St Augustine: “Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are." Thank you to everyone for sharing your work with us!
Tobore's original poetry narrates the story of Hope, Anger and Courage as they seek to find closure and a way to cope with the horrific incidents seen throughout 2020.
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Here we have 17 year old Trumpet Player Tarell Dixon, a multi-instrumentalist and composer, playing the popular Last Post Call which is usually played at the funerals of fallen soldiers. The Last Post signalled the end of both day and earthly life. It exists beyond all the usual barriers of nation, religion, race and class, charged with the memory of generations of the fallen. It is used here to pay artistic homage to the black lives lost.
Lest We Forget’ is a snapshot of a documentary by Ken Fero which journeys through the unjust killing of black men and women in police custody from 1969 to 1999. This is not just an American problem. Watch to find out how the fight for justice is still relevant today.
Filipino in the UK
There are so many words to describe me,
but I'm often minimised to "B.A.M.E."
I've got a foreign name, exotic.
Try to read it before you modify it
Or does it hurt your tongue to try and say it?
How long have I lived in the UK because
my English is so good,
where did I learn it?
My accent is American,
it's confusing.
or my accent is too Filipino,
quite embarrassing.
How can we come from so far
and be so fluent-- so bizzarre.
My rice cooker is an enigma,
more so the amount of rice I eat, huh?
My spoon and fork don't make any sense to you
But your table knife achieves nothing for me, too.
Why do we dye our perfect black hair?
why do we want our skin to be fair--
why don't we just embrace our God-given tan?
"Your president seems like a smart man
Fighting your country's drug war like no one else can."
You comment on the politics of my country
as if you know it better than me.
as if I should be grateful for the corruption you don't know of
the injustice, the betrayal
and the absolute reason why I left the comfort of
my homeland.
It's quite difficult to be a P.o.C.
in a world that doesn't understand our P.o.V.
Why we've immigrated and not always assimilated
Why we've flown thousand of miles away from home
Only to stick with our own
but sometimes there is just some comfort
in not having to explain the way we are
or who we are
and why we are
the persons we are
without having to feel subpar.
Jonalyn Andrade
Anger and Courage
I won’t settle at crooked buildings, misaligned intentions,
Nor will I halt at brokens dreams spread across streets
Like shattered jars losing hold of hope and hunger;
I will pick up its pieces and regather the strength to believe
That these pavements will be safe for all,
Safe enough to stop minorities fall through its gaps;
It took more than one group to build this community,
Yet this city has been torn in two for too long,
Like Montagues and Capulets absent of a love story,
Tipped to benefit one more than the other;
The good and bad; rich and poor; stuffed and starved;
He sailed over from his home island to help build another,
Yet still feels the aftertaste of cold greetings years on;
She works day and night to carry her family of three,
Yet hardly finds rest, just to make ends meet;
He was born here, young, with brown skin as bright as gold,
Yet jumps over countless profiles that aren’t his own;
She speaks four languages, maneuvering four streams on her tongue,
Yet is bullied for her errors and foreign sound;
They are the families sidelined, marginalised, downtrodden;
How can anger marry courage when circumstance continues to sabotage it?
Trying to silence the conversation of hope
We must refuse the urge to say “life just is meant to be like this”
And instead enquire of justice as a lifeline for those who need it;
If anger be the starting point, may courage step in as its other half,
Climbing over walls that barricade sight of a better future;
Let courage see the speck of light in hurt and hardship;
Let courage plan, bring together, legislate;
Let it spur you to keep at your passion;
When anger clouds the way, let courage hold up the vision;
Remind you that there is a cause, a journey to push on.
Priscilla Krahn
May this 8 minutes 46 seconds of artistic expression, of the grapple between Hope’s Daughters serve as an outlet to let out frustrations, but also serve as a reminder that the fight is not lost. We shall overcome...
It is important to remember that the fight for justice carried out by martyrs, community leaders, and voices who dare to not be silenced has not been in vain.
HOPE AND HER TWO DAUGHTERS OFFICIAL SHORT FILM
With the recent racial report produced by the UK government, which denies any form of systemic racism, amongst other things, and current court trial over the murder of George Floyd in America, mixed feelings of disbelief and frustrations towards these institutional powers continue to brew amongst us.
GONE TOO SOON: LEST WE FORGET
"A moment of silence, for the:
Son, Father, Uncle, Nephew
Sister, Mother, Aunty, Niece
Who have lost their lives to the systems
And people who continue to deny their humanity" -- Poem 3
DAUGHTERS
These restless girls, digging sleep from pillows
scratch at the dungeon of childhood
dreaming an infection of monsters
They startle awake together, lingerie hissing
in the heat of a new morning
the wind is in the empty court
Their father’s house has been booted from the horizon
stolen by time and the mawkish sentiments of honor
here happens what always happens
The kingdom of man is breached every day
a battle smelling of skin and flood
a demotion from the gods
The elder daughter could bend the ear of a seashell
I am a snail with room for only one
and every evening, I am shot again
The younger one, picking at a bee sting, says
Our words are merely brushstrokes
We must put on our stockings and walk
Why bump about like sand in a bottle
as if that will consecrate all these fatal wounds
We need only pack and move on
Find another garden another set of bees
and teach them not to sting
at the blood red altars of love
Gay Giordano
All photography credits to their rightful owners.
POETRY SUBMISSIONS
Hatred
Why is there so much hate?
The world needs love of heavy weight
People are losing their faith
And scared to jump out of their wraith
Religion, ethnicity and culture are a label
We are all linked together like a cable
Why can’t we all be one?
And fill each other’s life with fun
It does not matter what your race
Or the colour of your face
We are in this world together
Walking through the stormy weather
Forget pointing out differences
So we can be in more appearances
Bury this hatred deep down
Or we will be left with a frown
Hatred is a disaster
Similar to an unhappy master
It fills us up with sorrow
And diminishes the beautiful tomorrow!
Aisha Idris Suleman
Gentrification Now!
I used to roll down these streets of Hackney, before bearded men on bicycles with white wires sticking out their ears rolled in,
Seeing the people I used to know,
Same face, same cold, same fears, same old, like we weren’t supposed to know,
Gentrifications alive and living!
The secrets of the friendly neighbours now moving in,
There was apparently no gold here before the money moved in?
Not enough community space for a community forgotten,
Or maybe someone’s ideas and principles became rotten,
Many voices yet few had been chosen,
To rebuild the fragments of an alienation,
Too high, too speed, feel numb, no need,
Left on Murder Mile to bleed whilst you take the easy drove on Cambridge Heath and We remain in chase for mobile T.V
Enrique Joyette
Aleph Poet
Anger
He's face down, on the ground.
Assumed the position!
They stand, in a nonchalant pose.
Chest pushed out, showing off to the world!
Their knees lock!
Not an ounce of remorse,
For the use of unnecessary force.
Their signature DNA!
So, it's just another day.
Tick, Tock, Tick!....
I'm so tired of this FCUK-ing Injustice!
L. M
Hope / Courage
I'm hopeful that treatment of our young black men will end. That these atrocities will not last and will be a thing of the past!
I'm hopeful that our people will open their eyes and realise its time to beat the system! Keep focused. Push the pills aside. Ask for counselling, rather than melatonin!
I'm encouraged that even though justice took far too long
for Stephen Lawrence
it highlighted the Met's incompetence!
His family never gave up, and rightly so,
He wasn't another John Doe,
He was their son,
He brought fun - to their lives.
He too had a dream....
And the world got to know him!
L. M
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