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Every Body Looking

Page 3

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

 

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