by Candice Iloh
pretending to sleep
Dad didn’t know much about when I worked
after I got my car and I was always busy
if he knew I was still taking all these dance classes
he’d think I was wasting precious money and my time
rolling and shaking to djembe and afrobeats
sometimes accompanied by live drums
the way we were taught
to listen for the rhythm
to listen for the break
to follow and to lead
sometimes they would have me dance
facing the drummers following hands
that spoke to our steady feet
smiling at their own hands
pleased by the room’s energy
playing while our bodies flew free
At age four dance hadn’t been free
but it was a cheaper way for Dad
to teach me about where we came from
barefoot we danced bellies out wrapped in
colorful fabric skirts and dresses
made in our home country
every saturday Dad would take me
for my history lesson where I’d learn
Yoruba and Igbo songs the teacher would sing
for us while giving us moves
to travel across the floor
when we didn’t have the money to travel overseas
learned rhythms to tell stories
learned steps used to ground us
began learning how to find home later on
in my own skin
When you get too big to be carried
when you start wanting things
beyond food
or a place to sleep
when you start needing
a way to make sense
of everything happening
when you start growing
further away from
what used to be home
you go looking for somewhere
that lets you be
what’s inside your head
you go find a way to get back
to your own history lesson
to your own way of being alive
How can I tell Dad
about what makes me feel most alive
when since I’ve been born his whole existence
has been sacrificed for me?
what can I tell him when his every breath
has been about keeping me safe
and teaching me to do what’s right?
how can I tell someone who does nothing
before he has a chance to pray
that the god I’m getting to know teaches me
how to seek my own face?
He will not understand the way I feel
every time I get to dance
is the opposite of it all
that when I tell my body to move
it can
when I tell my body to feel
it can
when I tell my body to stretch
it can
when I tell my body to try
it can
and every time
I go a little further
and every time
I learn my body is mine
and every time
I learn my body’s wishes
are my command
SUMMER BEFORE COLLEGE
And I command satan to flee
from every space Ada will travel on this new path
and I command every negative spirit to be loosed
and I pray Ada will continue to obey
your voice, oh lord
her body might tell her to hang with bad people
she will not go
her body might tell her to go to the clubs
she will not go
her body might tempt her to dress sexy
she will not do it, lord
because she is a child of god
submitted to your will
created for your glory
so lord I pray as Ada leaves this morning
that you cover her in your blood
walk for her
speak for her
breathe for her
when she doesn’t know what to do
and help her be a light to the other students
so at the end of the year she brings
more faithful servants to you, lord
in Jesus name
amen
Dad squeezes my hand and I know I will not miss
these prayers in someone else’s name
these requests that god stop me
these scriptures written by men
these memories that no one knows about
where I never
got to decide
maybe leaving this place
maybe choosing no longer to hide
will set me free
one day
Dad no longer needs to know all my plans
as we pack his car to head to the airport
he’s still talking about god’s will
this is how I know Dad is scared
I’m moving to a whole new state
where he won’t be able to watch over me
where he won’t know the people I’ll be around
this means I’ll have to trust my Self
he’s releasing my Self to the world
but happy knowing I’ll
study in his footsteps as far as he knows
that one day
I’ll make a whole lot of money
that prayer and money
will keep my Self safe
Safety (safe·ty)
/’sāftē/
noun
the condition
of being protected from
or unlikely to cause danger
risk
or injury
as in
to ensure
our safety
Dad clasps
his hands
around mine
having us
bow our heads
at our seats
just after boarding
the flight
as in
to ensure
his safety
Dad thumbs warning cards
he’s seen tucked behind seats
hundreds of times
while flight attendants
tell us what to do
like this
was our first time
flying
as in
for my own
safety
Dad reminds me
that I’m not flying
697 miles away from home
to be like this world
I should remember
from the moment
I set foot on campus
I’m supposed to be
a light for Christ
The lights dim
through the cabin once we’re off ground // Dad crushes a pack of peanuts and a drink before falling asleep beside me // outside my window is all sky while clouds float far beneath // I’m thinking this is what it’s like when you’re too far above everything for regular life to matter // that old life in Chicago where I was my old me // everyone telling me about this new person I’ll be while begging me not to change at the same time // new city new people but always new in Christ // youth pastor always teaching how god transforms us by washing us clean // I am wondering about this new feeling god might give me far from hands once laid on me // what church what choir what pew awaits to remind me whose I am // an
d who am I without all these reminders back in my old city // this charge feeling like the heavy of my carry-on packed with // notebooks my laptop two bibles and my freshmen welcome guide
to college
When people talk about college
they never really talk about
how you’re going to
change before
your whole family’s eyes
and they’re not
going to be happy about it
instead
they’ll ask you
what’s that thing in your nose?
where’d you get those words from?
have you forgotten how to call home?
when’s the last time
you prayed, huh?
I didn’t have to think to pray
before I ate, I would just do it
before I laid down for the night
before I got into a stranger’s car
before the car would pull off
before I walked down the street at night
before I walked down the street in the morning
before an exam
before an exam I didn’t study for
because that’s what we did back home
I didn’t study much at first
I never had to before
cause I didn’t know how
it was new to me
like this freedom
like this new city
like this new bed
like this own mind
so this own body
decided to sleep in
this time
when sunday came
When the first Sunday away came around
I learned there was a shuttle
and the shuttle was for anyone
who wanted to
remember their religion
cause ain’t no reason you gotta
backslide just cause you’re in college
if not now, when else would you
need JEEZUS more?
the shuttle would take us
to Zion Church of Christ at
nine o’clock and if you weren’t
there somebody would know
and if you were there somebody
would know
and you would get a special hug
if you came wearing the
scent of last night’s party, body
smelling of perfume and sweat
mascara running laps around
your eyelids
your shirt loose enough now
to cut a step for the lord
your neck fighting to lift back up
after bowing
to pray
Growing up my dad would pray
before during and after
everything and honestly
it was cool until it made us
late for things
and made me question
why we couldn’t do things
with our own strength
started wondering what
my father was so afraid of
what was on the other side
of amen
that was so bad
we couldn’t just
do it
MIDDLE SCHOOL
A week into the sixth grade Dad says
we’re trying a new church
says he’s been praying
to the lord for a new home
this is the third church
in three weeks and I
am just praying
for my first real friends
We can see this new church
from almost a mile up the street
the building is half the size
of its enormous parking lot, several cars
spilling onto the roads lining what
seems to be the entire neighborhood
a large sign is dug deep into the church’s front lawn
large black letters say that us that have fallen far from god
can still be welcomed here
Dad begins to say wow
begins to say my god
begins to say thank you Jesus
under his breath but just enough
for me to hear
I’m wondering, when we park,
how long it’ll take
to get inside
To get inside
after making the pilgrimage
through the parking lot we enter
the two doors that open themselves
when you step on the sensing carpets
the ushers are at the doors then in the hallway
then in the second set of hallways serving us all the
god bless yous and hallelujahs and my lords that we can get
I am sure my father is impressed at the shine of their gleaming teeth
and matching suits, the swing of their hands raising to clap and sing politely
one leads us through the double doors to seats to the far left
before the choir, diagonal
from us the pastor and first lady are sitting, I hear another my lord another thank you Jesus
and I know we are here to stay
It’s clear we’ll stay here
watching Dad take in the plush burgundy seats
at least one hundred rows of brown skin cloaked in tailored dress
clapping perfectly manicured hands
jumping and stomping their feet
under the spell of the finest full choir
drums and most impressive organ
the congregation crying out in unison
while the praise team leads song after song
Dad entranced as the pastor nods approvingly
from the front row, bobbing his head
one hand resting on the lap of his first lady
the whole flock shines in collective yes
everyone’s best jewelry gleaming
a flood of hands outstretched
each one a sign of surrender
each one a bowed head, a shed tear or a bended knee
The pastor rises to lead
the choir in the pre-tithing selection
before he asks the congregation for
ten percent of their earnings
he sings with us a song that creates
all the tears
what I hear is that Jesus loves me
and how we all know this because the bible
tells us so and I know that is good
I know that it’s good we’re going
off of what the bible says
more than anything
Dad said we needed to
find a home where they teach the
Word of God
I had never questioned
how the bible
was the Word
of God
when many
of the books
were written
by men
whose names
sounded American
apparently
Matthew
Mark
Luke
John
Timothy
James
Peter
Paul
are
the Words
of God
Words are powerful
unless they’re not biblical
unless they’re not written by men
unless they’re unlike
Jesus’s spit itself
why can’t I pray outside of his name?
why is my name not enough?
>
The pastor sits for the choir’s last song
before he shares with us
the Word of God, and
several women come
floating out from
doors just next to the band
dressed in gold bodysuits
with purple dresses
gently covering their curves
but accenting the way
their bodies fly
to the rhythm across the marble
floors in praise but
really it’s possession
taking over them
catching some type of spirit
that tells me something inside
knows how to control this
they know
why they move, how they
lift their feet, how they
bend their backs
how this dance
is their own
the something greater
in their thighs, in the rush
of their blood
and they are looking
to the sky
to their hands
to themselves smiling
and suddenly my face
is wet and I can see
myself up there, near them too
Dad catches me like this
lifts one eyebrow
but still
thinks it’s the Holy Ghost
that got me
thinks this is something
other than seeing
my own reflection
After service
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom / see myself / twirl one time / see myself / lift my eyes to the hills / the hills are my hands / see myself / flick my wrists slow / see myself / thrust my chest forward like I am pushing something away / see myself laugh at this silly girl thinking she can point toe and dip and move like that / see myself wanting to master my body /
like the dancers
The dancers were the last
things on Dad’s mind
instead he asks me for my notes
this is how he monitors if I was paying
attention to what the pastor said we should do