A retrospective through the diasporic womb.


eh eh. Who do you think are tsh—?

Post apocalyptic dub opera. Island ting and island swings.

Taken on a Hyperion like trek through the psyche of a black woman. Deep shit.

The only thing scarier than the white walkers was that feeling of being useless. Infertility. black form reduced to packaging.

Ebony vocal chords showering us with dripping gold. Musicianship from the mother land unparalleled. Metaphors so slick I had to pay for admission thrice.

d’bi queen.

Even my gay friend said he needed a black wife after the show. This artform is powerful people.



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