Home — Diana Ross (1978)
It took me a while to formulate a title for the subsection of my Substack. I watch a good deal of media, and I’ve been needing a proper place to archive my thoughts and feelings on what I’ve consumed. A significant part of my practice and the work I do is rooted in what I choose to see, purchase, eat, and dedicate my time to. Sometimes I’ll be disappointed by what I chose to engage with; at times, I am satisfied. Each feeling is just as important as the other. But oftentimes, the question I circle back to, regardless of whether I deem something good or bad, is: What could have made it better?
Here, you can anticipate my reactions to films, books, plays, and recipes. I might recommend something I purchased and have been putting to good use, or offer a loving yet scathing review of something I did not enjoy.
I love as many things as I dislike these days, so take these recommendations with a grain of salt or store them for a rainy day. It’s up to you.
Body:
I’m going to be honest: August & September were challenging months for me, but I also watched and tried a lot of new things. In this particular season of my life, I have been focusing on keeping my body active. Yoga has been something I’ve been practicing casually for a few months now, and I hope to work on something more performance art-based in the near future. To prepare for that, I definitely need to work on something I’ve been neglecting—learning to touch my toes. I’m sure I look like someone who should be able to do it, but in my experience, it’s often the most willowy people who are somatically out of touch. I can’t dance, and I can’t touch my toes, but that will all change soon. I recently decided to increase my private yoga sessions to twice a week and to be diligent with the homework my instructor gives. As for the dancing part, I’m unsure how to make that happen, but baby steps.
In the meantime, I am prioritizing flexibility training while also surrendering to what my body tells me it is capable of. I am capable of anything, but I must also be gentle with myself. Finesse, not force. So far, I’ve invested in a good yoga mat, sandbags, and blocks for home use. I’ll report back once I’m able to touch my toes, hehe.
“Beauty as a Coping Mechanism”
I’m not going to hold you—since becoming a mother, I’ve been struggling with returning to myself. A part of the old me died after giving birth. Both the good and bad parts of me. For a time, I wasn’t prioritizing myself, especially in terms of aesthetics. What I’ve been battling lately are forms of self-apathy. How can I get back to desiring to feel beautiful? Do I think this new version of myself is beautiful? Most days, the answer is no.
I’m at a place of just faking it until I make it. Maybe I’ll see the beauty in myself by performing basic self-care rituals—things as simple as a skincare routine, drinking enough water, and eating three times a day—as well as actively creating my own rituals.
I recently began taking white baths to cleanse the stagnant energy from my body and remove the negativity I accumulate over the course of the month. The process of grinding herbs, lighting candles, and praying psalms has been so gorgeous and healing. This is something I hope to continue over the course of my life, perhaps building more complex baths in the future. For now, this one works just fine.
I’ve found a variety of clothing pieces I’ve been quietly adding to my wardrobe in preparation for fall. The ongoing joke in my friend group is that I’m part of a religion that requires I don’t wear pants. It’s not that I don’t like pants; I just enjoy the femininity of a nice dress and letting my loins breathe. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that! But this fall, I’ll be trying to wear more pants. They’ll have a bit of flow to them, but I’ll do it. This adjustment isn’t entirely by choice—I get cold very easily, and I’d rather not have to fight the breeze too much.
Mind:
I have been watching and reading some very stimulating things as of late. I love a good book, play, and movie. In August, I consumed some good things and some bad things.
Most recently, I watched Alien: Romulus. If I had to describe this movie in two sentences, it would be: “A white girl has a strange, codependent, Uncle Tom’s Cabin-style friendship with an AI and is trapped on a labor colony. She gets looped into a plot to escape said labor colony with a group of like-minded wayward young adults also searching for liberation; the plan goes well… until it doesn’t anymore.”
This movie was intense; I actually screamed at one point. I was annoyed the entire time because of how they treated the AI character—who also happens to be Black. I haven’t seen a review that addresses the topic of race in this particular movie. Controversial yet brave, I wish the main character had been Black and the AI had been white. That would have added more depth to the story for me. But I’m not going to lie, the movie was good. I could tell it was made by someone who likely advocates for “color-blind” casting.
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At the beginning of August, I went with my mother and Auntie Carla to see The Notebook and The Wiz on Broadway. The thing about me is, if there is a Black girl on Broadway, I’m always going to show up for her. The Notebook was great; the scenic design was stunning. I believe the scenic designer for Jaja’s African Hair Braiding also worked on The Notebook. LED light strips dangled from the ceiling, there was a babbling brook, and in one scene, the two main characters were standing in the rain. I don’t know how they did it, but they made it rain in that small theater. Overall, the storytelling was beautiful. My grandfather passed away from dementia, and I appreciated how the story centered around the fragility of memory and the pain of not being able to trust your own brain anymore, as well as witnessing a loved one’s decline in that way. At the end, all you could hear in the theater was sniffling. Joy Woods and Jordan Tyson, y’all will always be famous.
Now, The Wiz. Whew. I’m kind of unsure where to start. I knew I wanted to write about it since I saw it, but I didn’t want my thoughts to come off as nasty. However, the kindest offering I have is a simple, “What the heck was that?” The entire cast was fabulous—they did the best with what they were given. But what were they given? Lackluster set design, poor costume design, and semi-decent audio. I truly want to know what happened. The following day when I left New York, someone asked me if this particular play was amazing, and I responded, “Yes—a maze of unfinished ideas.”
What frustrated me the most was that there was so much potential. Had there been just a little more care applied it could have been grand. Much of it felt like a high school play. Sesali of Notes From A Trap Feminist described the project as “not Black enough,” which I can agree with to some extent. Oz being a subverted Tremé had good bones, but not one person with a New Orleanian accent spoke on that stage. I’m glad they didn’t fake one, though. Lastly, the character of the Lion is something I still need to sit with. His costume wasn’t great, and something about his character felt a bit queer-coded in a way that often landed in him being the butt of many jokes. It was off-putting. Kyle Ramar Freeman did an amazing job, but I felt he deserved much more.
The highlight for me was definitely the cast. Nichelle Lewis as Dorothy shined so much; her voice is incredible. Melody A. Betts was amazing as Evillene. Avery Wilson was a treat to see as the Scarecrow. Phillip Johnson Richardson was so fine in that Tin Man suit. It was definitely a play I had to take for what it was—stimulating and with memorable songs. Nostalgia was its saving grace.=
A Few More Things I’ve Watched Recently:
Exhuma (2024): Loved this. The scene with the shaman was stunning. Gorgeous cinematography and a fabulous story. I had a great time.
The Wailing (2016): Dreadful in the best way. One thing I noticed about Korean horror is that they often make evil ghosts have Japanese origins. I figured it was cathartic, and I was correct. Following WWII and other historical events, the Japanese wreaked havoc on Korea, and Korea has been getting its lick back on the cinema front. A friend of mine questioned this, and I said, “Aht aht—that’s Asian folks’ business.”
Longlegs (2024): They got a jump scare out of me, not gonna lie. Nicholas Cage has been experiencing a revival of his own lately. I really enjoyed him in this, though briefly. Blair Underwood was great, too. I thought to myself, “Damn, he could have been this generation’s Denzel Washington if he hadn’t done Madea’s Family Reunion.” I think it pigeonholed him in a way.
Civil War (2024): I watched this after Donald Trump was shot in the ear. I’d describe it as a thriller for photography lovers. How far are you willing to go to make your photo? Many described this film as “apolitical.” From a world-building standpoint, I agree, but I think that was ultimately a good decision because it’s a story on the ethics of photojournalism. Photojournalism as an overall practice can be incredibly apolitical by design—or at least aspires to be for bias's sake. The main character spends much of the film trying to help a new talent develop a thick skin necessary for their line of work, only to realize she herself is traumatized by the depraved things she has witnessed. The work is necessary but comes at a great cost.
Added this at the last second, I randomly received an invite to go with some friends to Maxwell’s Serenade tour. (Shout out to Ashley for selling me her ticket.) He performed my favorite song, uncut for 6 whole minutes. When I was in middle school I went to a one direction concert with a friend of mine who was obsessed with One Direction. She stood the entire concert with one hand to the sky and one hand pressed to her heart, tears streaming down her face. I am not exaggerating. I wish I could upload the memory here for you all. I recall that to say, after hearing Bad Habits live, I finally understand that middle school friend. Hearing your favorite song out in the wild, played live will really have you shot out like that.
I’ll share a few books next month. Grief has been hitting me hard lately, and sadly, I haven’t been able to bring myself to complete a book. Send a prayer up for me, please. Xo
Soul:
What has been feeding my soul lately has mainly been distractions. I am a professional hobbyist in my down time. I remember when I was younger, my sister and I received charm bracelets from our Auntie Carla. Our grandparents would gift us charms, and my sister would brag about having more charms than me. I crudely pointed out that the only reason she had more charms was that she received one for every hobby or sport she quit. She did not take this well. I have since traded places with her.
While I initially took up photography as a hobby, the art form soon became subsumed under the umbrella of work once I dropped out of college. The bulk of my time went to making images, whether for my pleasure or commission. In some ways, I think the pressures of being thrust into the workforce drained the enjoyment from what was once a pleasurable activity. I didn’t begin grieving this until postpartum, when I felt called to make self-portraits. I noticed my need for validation and longing to be affirmed by a team of creative and art directors.
I’ve spent the last two years attempting to unlearn this. I’ve taken up hobbies to appreciate slowness and imperfection. Gardening, oil painting, and cooking are my current favorites. Gardening is something I do independently. Last year, I was most successful. This year, my tomatoes caught blight, my cabbage got cabbage worms, my squash had powdery mildew, and my okra was covered in aphids. By the end of August, I surrendered—it was a failure of biblical proportions. I feared a plague of locusts would be next. At first, I was sad about it, but after chatting with a few farmers, the general consensus was, “Bad seasons happen.”
Oil painting was a process I’ve been wanting to learn for a while. I love learning new processes in a classroom setting, and oils seem to have so many nuances. I feel like I’m learning to see again. Slowness is what I’ve been desperately needing. For those interested in learning, Alia El-Bermani holds classes and open figure sessions in Raleigh, North Carolina.
Cooking has always been fun to me, I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t even want to order out much anymore. My favorite things I’ve made most recently have been chicken schnitzel with mushroom gravy over mashed potatoes, (shout out to Abby for putting me on to the glory of microgreens - they add so much brightness to a meal) and plum upside down cake, with whole oranges and oregano mixed into the batter. Both were 5 stars - my family enjoyed both so much. I had folks pulling up to my house to get a slice of cake haha.
Rapid Fire Recommendations:
Vertigo Sea by John Akomfrah: My dad introduced me to this artist. There are so many layers to this work. I thought I was the one connecting everything back to slavery—this artist connects whaling and Moby Dick to the transatlantic slave trade.
Grandma Baby's Black Gold Lenormand Too: My favorite cards. I call these the home phone.
Shadow Work Journal: Paired with my weekly therapy sessions, this has been amazing. I’m finally getting to the bottom of who I am and why I am. Waiting for this fixed candle to come in so I can set intentions around this work a bit further.
Fountain Pens: My dad is a collector of fountain pens. I recently decided to purchase a few of my own as I’ve been journaling daily. The Pilot Elite 95s flows like butter. TWSBI ECO is real and nice, flows well, but aesthetically, it’s not really for me and seems a bit childish. Lastly, the Asvine fountain pen surprised me—super cute, easy to fill with ink, and flows very well. Diamine has lovely oxblood ink, one of my favorites.
Journals: Now that I’m a pen snob, I’m also a paper/stationery snob. All paper is not created equal. Moleskine is at the bottom of the barrel; the ink bleeds something awful. Japanese notebooks always do it for me, specifically Midori and Hobonichi.
Mapping Malcolm: Shout out to Derrick Beasley for letting me peek at his copy. Stunning book—reminds me of a sacred text of sorts.
Survival Is a Promise: The Eternal Life of Audre Lorde by Alexis Pauline Gumbs: Last month, I photographed Alexis for the New York Times. She came to my studio, and I had a lovely time speaking with her. The first time we met, I was outside my apartment, and she walked past with her partner. I swallowed my pride and introduced myself. Thankfully, the experience came full circle when images of my Nana ended up in the most recent issue of Southern Cultures, edited by Alexis Pauline, Michelle Lanier, and Johnica Rivers. The issue is titled Sojourn.
A Little Juju Podcast — I photographed Juju Bae a few years ago for Off White. At the time I wasn’t too familiar with her lore. I found her podcast after watching Living for the Dead on Hulu (which has sadly been removed from the platform. I am an aspiring root girl on the low. I feel most folks who stumble into their hoodoo practices, do so during times of emotional/spiritual distress — that is certainly the case for me. In many ways this podcast has been nursing me back to health.
Please share this link with resources for those affected by Hurricane Helene out in Asheville. Sending up a prayer for those out in the Appalachia as well as areas effected in North Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, and Florida.



Well, y’all, I’ll bring this entry to a close here. Hopefully, you encountered something that piqued your interest. I am so grateful to everyone who decided to read this.
Expect another essay this month & Bitches Brew 002 in November.
Cheers,
K+
Thank you for this beautiful, vulnerable insight into your inner world. I am now inspired to review media on my Substack too. I relate to your section about hobbies, I am also a chronic hobby starter and quitter. I have been trying to let them come and go whenever they’re ready, like seasons—they typically return to me eventually. I hope to join you in your journey of feeling beautiful again. Desirability is something I’ve struggled with for my entire life, and I’ve only started to feel beautiful recently. You are glowing in my eyes, and I hope you’re able to see the same soon! 🩷