Her art conjures itself through her living being. Tracing back to a homophobic Jamaica, a somewhat transient childhood, a brave cultural uprooting, and progressing forward to current personal affairs, modern politics and revelations, she lives and arts with gritty self-determination. A strong assertion of her worth, her voice places her in the world, and spins it.
She is Staceyann Chin. She is poet, activist, performer. She is a 5 ft 2 dynamic burst that will hit you like a tornado and contain the beautiful carnage inside your skin.
While she transcends hers.
She speaks out, and even further.
As a performance poet myself, she rattles words from me, slips them down and out my throat, makes them charge, unashamed, from my fingertips.
Her brazen art dares and allows me mine. Inspires and motivates, sets precedent, sets courage down like banana leaves for me to slip across and find my very own spot for standing.
For standing and shouting.
In a whisper.
In a movement.
In one single vowel or the twist of my index finger against my thumb.
She dares not allow fear to silence the truth of her awareness.
I dare not allow that lesson to slip me past, unnoticed.