Enjambment_Vol1_Draft_12.4.20_Dynamic Version copy

ENJAMBMENT
en·jamb·ment
/inˈjambmənt,enˈjam(b)mənt/
noun
(in verse) the continuation of a sentence without a pause
beyond the end of a line, couplet, or stanza.
Vol.
1

(Cover Photo by Maxamillion Polo)
MISSION
With our publication, Enjambment, we seek to inform the public, empower Black voices, and enact
change. This zine will showcase raw contributions outside of mainstream, mass media, mainly in the
forms of visual media, accompanied by personal writings from the people – for us, by us.
This is our authentic homage to Black and marginalized experiences. We aim to target society itself;
highlighting the rampant inequality purposefully sowed into the soils of a system that specifically targets
Black communities to this day. We hope that, by presenting Black pain, Black beauty, Black joy, and more,
we may offer you pause, perhaps some moments of discomfort. Although marginalized, Black lives have
thrived, and we intend to provide insight, through experiential and emotional relatability, that casts
doubt on the status quo. Above all, we intend to change the rhetoric of America for generations to come.
Photo by Clay Banks

Afraid
Close your eyes.
Now what
Do you see?
Please, tell me.
Why are you so afraid of me?
SGD0
Photo by Jakayla Toney

blue blanket
we are taught to be better
better than what we are
to fight an inevitable fight
(or so we thought)
I still feel it though
the inherited struggle bequeathed
like my mother's mother's favorite sky blue blanket
full with holes, stains, and other guesses
wrapping you in warmth, protection, and love
M.E.
Slave to the Rhythm
feeling like a cog in the machine
turning, grinding, rusting
the same ol shit, just different times
shackled by the patriarchy's manifest destiny
a slave of the past
a slave to the present
a slave to the rhythm
listening to the thud in my chest
beating, fluttering, skipping
the same ol' sounds, but a different song
empowered by the creation of cosmic harmonies
freedom to let go
freedom to take in
freedom to get lost in the rhythm
M.E.

Untitled
Black girl
Black gold
Black God —
Where are you?
Black boy
Black, bad
Black berry —
Deep roots.
Roots that no longer
Dig down deep
Roots raised in surrender —
“I can’t breathe.”
SGDO
FIRE
visceral flames burst
rain falls, not from burning clouds
repeat, I cant breathe
M.E.

9:25pm
You hate me. You hate my Blackness.
You hate the way that this melanin
Gently kisses the skin upon
Which your dogs once feasted.
You hate the way my confidence
Refuses to be suffocated; the way I grow stronger
Multiply – Each time you kill.
My family continues to grow. The hate
Your families taught mine
Intensifies.
We hate you. We hate your darkness. We hate this system
That still protects your darkness. We hate not
Our Blackness, but we do hate that you’ve become
Its shadow. We hate being persecuted.
Perhaps they confuse our blackness
For their desperate darkness.
Was it, possibly, as terrifying as we imagine?
To realize you were Amerikkka’s latest prey.
Was it, perhaps, a respite?
To no longer worry
if it would be someone you knew.
Or
Was it, eventually, freeing?
To no longer taste tears
To no longer hear loss
To no longer smell fear.
SGDO

KEEP
YOUR
JOY
Joy is a revolutionary force. We need it
as much as we need anger because it
is joy that will help keep us in these
bodies long enough to enact justice.
How are you finding and harboring joy
right now? How are you encouraging
those you are in community with to
seek joy and hold onto it fiercely, even
in the very darkest hour? We are owed
our anger. And at some point, we are
owed our joy.
“
”
- Evette Dionne
Photo by Maxamillion Polo

Antibiosis
Do you want to be next to me when they shoot us for speaking up?
Or would you rather get the call?
Would it make it easier, if you didn’t have to watch my body fall?
I don’t want to be cremated. So please
don’t let them abandon my body like a building burned by white,
hot privilege.
Will you breathe the fire of life into me and ventilate our dreams?
Dreams are easier to swallow than pleas of the doomed.
Just my destiny ‚ to be chopped down before I’ve bloomed.
Call my sister and share our news; [He’s] just more slop for the pigs
[dead]! I did this for us all; tired of imaginary dues and outdated views.
Martyrdom bore these wings.
SGDO

Duty/Catching the Rain
I sprint, trying to catch their tears in the cup of my hands
a small puddle forms and leaks instantly
slipping between my boney fingers
formless now, on the ground
tick
the puddle grows larger in the cup of my hands
accomplishing my duty too well
my cup runneth over
formless now, on the ground
tock
spots of light gray asphalt appear
as tears continue to rain down
but there are cups filling in my periphery
united now, on the ground
M.E.

wishes for sons, not brothers
i wish them naps.
i wish them a strange town
and no cell service.
i wish them no 9-1-1.
i wish them one wrong turn
and wearing a durag.
(i wish their dictionaries recognized
“durag” as a *real* word)
i wish them one wrong look.
later i wish them police officers
and shots like you
wouldn’t believe. let the
bastards come when they
meet someone special.
let the shots come
when they want to.
let them think they have accepted
prejudice in the universe,
then bring them to police officers
not unlike themselves.
Seeking Allies for the Revolution
Heavy homo hands
Tantalized and tired
From carrying the beautiful
Weight of The Message
Nigga knees knock
Bow and buckle beneath me
(So much for that extra muscle
They didn’t really believe that, did they?)
Anxious armpits
Drip and drain me
Results of racism you refuse to see
Our dear dead
Plague the pleas of our people
Still singing psalms
Forehead lines forever furrowed
Wroth with worry
This broken Black back will one day bleed
White with the cells of equality.
All we need is idle eyes to open
Heed our hurting, help us heal.
SGDO
SGD0

REMEMBERING
MONICA
ROBERTS
Monica Roberts did what others refused to do. Monica Roberts found ways to
provide for an entire community that is continuously mistreated. Monica
Roberts was a force. In recent years, violence against our trans brothers and
sisters has reached unprecedented levels - going so far as to be considered
an epidemic by the American Medical Association. Just in 2020, of all years,
people have found a way - amongst a global pandemic - to murder over 40
trans or gender non-conforming human beings. In other words, people have
left their homes, neglected social-distancing protocols, and knowingly risked
their lives and the lives of others. Only to take those of people that were doing
nothing but trying to find their own space in a world that refuses to create any
for them.
Monica Roberts founded the blog TransGriot in 2006 because she was tired
of seeing her community disrespected even in death. In which, she described
herself as a “proud, unapologetic, Black, trans woman speaking truth to
power and discussing the world around her.” Proud. Unapologetic. Truth to
power. Things that we cannot compromise in the Black community. We must
remain proud, refuse to apologize, and be uncompromising in our commitment
to speak truth to power. TransGriot was the only informant one could
consult for all things trans for quite some time - almost a decade, in fact.
Here is where Monica detailed things that pertained to her life, both good and
bad, as well as trans history. Here is where many of us learned of the Compton
Cafeteria Riots that preceded Stonewall by three years. She last posted on
October 4th, 2020, about her NFL picks for week four of the year’s COVID-riddled
season, speaking on: the season; the players that had tested positive;
and her lack of surprise at Tennessee being the state whose team contracted
the virus first. Still personal but less lighthearted, her blog was largely looked
toward for the latest updates on deaths within the trans community. Monica
Roberts began investigating, properly gendering, and documenting the
murders of trans human beings even before law enforcement reluctantly
decided it was worth doing.
Monica Katrice Roberts was born in a segregated Houston, Texas in May of
1962. She dedicated much of her life to chronicling trans history and advocating
for trans-inclusion everywhere; specifically in politics. A walking vessel of
trans history and history in general, Monica Roberts received the Susan J.
Hyde Award for Longevity in the Movement from the National LGBTQ Task
Force in 2020. A pioneer; a queen; a leader for all, Monica Roberts passed on
October 5th, 2020 in Harris County due to a pulmonary embolism and rests in
inexorable power. Seeking to inform the public, we strive to make Ms. Roberts
proud.
The world would very likely be significantly less aware of these murders if it
were not for Monica Roberts. Though the queer community within the United
States has slowly pulled a seat up to the table of equality, this seat was truly
only big enough for the cisgendered, white gays. As the rights of cisgendered,
white gays increased, people like Monica Roberts were left behind because
they did not fit into the acceptable mold of what it supposedly meant to be
queer. Gays love the LGBTQIA+ acronym, but they often forget the alphabet
outside of “G.” This is where Monica Roberts came in. The Black light that
shone against a sea of white; the spots on the die that shook things up.