Because I defined myself for myself, I’m already living in my Black queer feminist future. However, it still comes with a lot of awe and absolute linkage to my past as a child of those brought to the so-called North Carolinian shores and cultivated through what makes us a city. Oh, and I did ok “outside” this week!
This is The Black Urbanist Weekly with Kristen Jeffers, an email newsletter that highlights the Black Queer Feminist Urbanist thoughts and commentary of me, Kristen E. Jeffers, an internationally-known urban planner, fiber designer, and contributing editor. Think of this as an editorial page column, but directly in your email. Let’s get started with a few words of reflection from me, then my weekly section on my Black queer feminist urbanist principles, “The Principle Corner”, then By the Way where I highlight articles and projects I had a hand in externally.; On the Shelf, On the Playlist where I share book and music recommendations, and finally Before You Go, where I share any ads and announcements if I have them and ways to support this work financially and externally. Ok, now, onward to our reflection this week, which I kinda teased above.
I took a deep breath when I sat on the fancy hotel bed Monday afternoon and cut my strings to my green crocheted dress.
I always do some kind of drum roll or breathing practice when I cut a garment’s final strings or send a piece out for final edits or push the publish button on a set of Breakfast Links or a really important, but possibly controversial piece or a design frame that’s going to influence how people comprehend a very important set of information.
And add on that, that we are still in a global airborne respiratory pandemic and we are in a gun violence epidemic and people really are being loud and wrong about Black folks and queer/trans folks and even bodies that have uteruses being able to use them how they see fit. We have solutions for all of these things, but none of them are used enough for us to truly feel safe, even in an academic space where discussion is supposed to be safe.
But Monday afternoon on that bed, with the sun streaming in from nearby Central Park, I found peace and convergence.
I had just read my slides again to make sure they would make sense, especially when people weren’t going to see my mouth. The pictures on the slides, the gestures my hands make, my Southern yet Black language inflections, the variegated blue and yellow tones in the green dress and the purple designer but more durable shoes, plus my purple strands making their lecture room debut, would have to do.
And they did, they so did.
If you were in the room on Tuesday afternoon and wondered why I spent so much time talking about humanity when you might have expected me to say build a sidewalk X inches wide, flush to the ground and take down X fences around parks, or put X more subway stops in Queens, Brooklyn, and upper Manhattan, know this.
This being that everything we do for people, plan for people, and design for people, starts with us knowing that the people are people. People with all kinds of shapes, sizes, identities, and inner worlds.
Don’t ever start your plans for people, without knowing their essence. Otherwise, you’ll keep designing the same way, wondering on your inside why it doesn’t seem to work or someone keeps declaring they feel missing or empty or alone in the room or on the plaza or on that very special shiny train.
And when you get to the point in your career, where you’ve reached a pinnacle or you’ve found the Pinnacle to be too much to bear, you’ll have strength in knowing that you are specially trained in the tools to build your pinnacle, and you can draw from these touchy/feely design principles to shape your place.
You’ll look up and you’ll be in a community that’s home.
Meanwhile, New York. You captured my heart again. So much so, that I’m doing a bonus round this weekend for one of the big design conferences. Next week, I’ll have more thoughts about experiencing the city itself, especially in the shadows of 9/11 and COVID.
And of course, thank you to the Black Student Alliance of the Columbia University Graduate School of Architecture, Planning, and Preservation (GSAPP), especially Jennah Jones and Kian Goldman, for having and hosting me, my fellow panelists Michael Ford and Dr. Deshonay Dozier for mixing some amazing theory and practice into the room with me and of course my dear Les for these beautiful pictures and tagging along. We will be gearing up on February 23rd at 7:30 pm to do a needed conversation on Black LGBTQIA+ health in the frame of the story of Henrietta Lacks and how her experience and our experience with the same hospital differed. The conversation is free and virtual and you can register here. This will be posted online after the event as well.
The Principle Corner
Each week, I’m taking a moment to share how I’ve been building the Black Queer Feminist Urbanist practice and ethic, so we can approach this work from a similar starting point. This week, I wanted to highlight the three working definitions of Queer that have been influencing this process.
So, this is my working queer definition from the principles.
Queer: A person who has a gender presentation, gender identity, gender journey/relationship, or sexual orientations that differ from traditional Western colonial thoughts on such ideas. Also refers to cultures that develop from this state of being.
Let me say that I don’t mean to center this against the Western definition on purpose. However, so much of what we understand as sexuality and gender has been funneled through a “Western/European” lens and cemented in the practices of conservative faith traditions that insist on just two genders, based on reproductive capabilities and capacities, with an emphasis on patriarchy.
However, this 2014 speech that birthed bell hooks’ infamous remarks on her personal queerness and the trans imagination, already wrapped up a talk and panel encouraging folks to consider how they were enslaved, builds on Audre Lorde’s admonition to define oneself for oneself, while also allowing folks to create their own imaginations.
As we make our definitions, let’s not forget to imagine first, so we can broaden our worlds! Next week, digging more into the feminist definition.
By the Way
Here’s where I share other articles/videos that were noteworthy for me this week in this section. Apologies in advance for things behind a paywall. Some things I subscribe to and others I grab just before the wall comes down on me. I will start marking these articles and describing them.
So, for the record, still testing negative and still testing regularly (tested right before I went to the building on Tuesday and the last two days, with all my traveling). However, we are in a holding pattern where everyone should still be masking, helping with ventilation and access to medicine.
It’s either stay in the house as a shut-in and be “forgotten” because you’re too disabled or forced to change because that disability is only cool when its time for a photo op, or be out here with no restrictions and acting like that there’s no such thing as illness and if you claim it is, you are not a real human. So yes, I’m in the travel with restrictions, limit access and lower viral load camp.
I’m very concerned that once we no longer have a public emergency declaration, this might send me back into the house. And all the folks shut in will never have a chance to see the light. We may be an ableist society, but that doesn’t mean we need to stay in one.
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On one of my next trips to New York, I hope to become part of the “#TamFam” either in the audience or on the stage with this work. Also pinching myself that I was super close to running into Erika Alexander, who in addition to bringing one of my favorite Black feminist urbanist characters to the screen in the 1990s in Living Single continues to make a way for Black women on and off camera. Here’s Erika on Tamron Hall, where she talks about also being on Columbia University’s campus this week receiving an award.
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And sadly, the quiet part about who is living in center cities and the conflicts created is now out loud in mainstream media, thanks to the Washington Post writing this digital headline: White people have flocked back to city centers — and transformed them (this is paywalled, with no option to gift a link) .
I will say that as someone who does almost everything these days almost but sleep and get my hair done in Navy Yard (and the same with Les), I’m glad that the changes are concentrated, but if you watch this episode of the wonderful local WETA production of If You Lived Here, you’ll see another example of how its not all sunshine and rainbows with our gentrification.
I only feel good about this because our financial position has changed. However, I know the way our finances have changed is not applicable or replicable to anyone but us. I see my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and church families in all the Black folks I see on the edges. Broke living downtown. Doing well in the burbs, but way out and away from where the action is really happening.
This is where the fire from my work is coming from. DC knows that something is going to have to change. However, will things change where they need to and will we collectively have the courage to make the changes in how we attract, move and house people in this region (and period!)?
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And that’s a good segue to attaching my complete remarks from Tuesday afternoon. We do not have complete audio, but I’m happy to bring these slides to your school, house of worship, workplace, or fraternal organization. Book one of these sessions and let’s talk more about building an urbanism from a Black queer feminist perspective.
On the Shelf, On the Playlist
This year, I’m challenging myself to read more books, versus reading long-form articles and hot takes. I also want to strengthen the Black Queer Feminist Urbanist book canon, by re-reading several of its titles. Realistically, I’ll probably be curating and skimming some of these titles, but I still want to lift them up to you as my readers, in case you’re self-educating, doing teach-ins, or need more materials than your university or school has provided on several of these topics. And sometimes, but not every week, I’ll be sharing some of my musical favorites, as I’ve been resurrecting my musical and DJ roots lately.
I was really pleased to walk into the Tyson’s Corner Center Barnes and Noble last night and find not just an issue of Baltimore magazine, but yet another one dealing with a major social issue that speaks to the marginalization of Black Baltimore, the Highway to Nowhere and said issue being the main focus of the cover. Les and I often peruse the magazines at the Potomac Yard one and I tend to hang out on the crochet, fashion, local use, and sometimes the music and wellness end, especially with so many of the big-name magazines being readily available online.
I love that Baltimore magazine is not afraid to put social issues up front, highlight innovators and artists challenging systems and structures, plus, they do all the travel and tourist and best doctor/lawyer/real estate agent stuff. I’m sure they had to be nudged at some point to do this, but the point is that they aren’t afraid to make the cover and the front page of the website look the way it does at the moment, rather than try to hide the rough (and sometimes even the diverse) stuff.
More of our local magazines (looking at you Our State and Washingtonian because I care about you the most besides Baltimore), should be more courageous and willing to put these things on the cover, versus sneaking things in the back or waiting until they are more historical than current.
Meanwhile, we were at Tysons so I could join team iPad (and get some steps on my fairly new Apple Watch after seeing how much movement I was able to do in Manhattan), and very excited to try out Apple News and see so many overlapping magazines. I feel like I’m going to power through a lot of ebooks and magazines this way, plus get into doing surface patterns again with Procreate.
This week’s musical selection is my 2013 comprehensive list from Apple Music, which is a list of all the songs I actually bothered to download hard copies and purchase and burn on CDs that calendar year. 2013 was my first business trip to NYC and as I do so again over these next couple of weeks, I wanted us to revisit this volume of songs.
Finally, if you want to hear more of the sound of my voice, check out my recent episodes with the Black Women’s Wellness Agency podcast, where I speak of wellness as someone who is creating a different relationship with the Black feminine and Urban Planning is Not Boring where I tease my upcoming book!
Before You Go
This is our last section, where we normally have advertisements for others, but I also advertise things that I’m doing that are for sale or for hire.
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Once again, if you want me to show up as I did above on your panel or for a keynote, book a complimentary consultation call. I still have open availability for 2023 and 2024.
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Also, you can still advertise in this newsletter, although no one chose to this week! Rates start at $75 a week for a four-week commitment and $150 for just one week.
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I have created a special landing page, www.theblackurbanist.com/books, that’s not only a home for my upcoming volume, A Black Urbanist Journey to a Queer Feminist Future, but all those books in the Black Queer Feminist Urbanist canon.
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if you want to send me money for quick expenses or like a tip jar, you can Venmo me. If you become a Patreon, you get detailed reporting on my progress as we shift operations into both a for-profit and non-profit model, along with a special thank you note each week! The GoFundMe is still alive if you want to make large donations quickly and you can subscribe on Substack, but know that nothing in this newsletter is going behind paywall, this is considered a love offering
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And if you want to support my textile and fiber work, head over to www.kristpattern.com.
Until next time,
Kristen