{"id":13174,"date":"2016-12-15T00:01:37","date_gmt":"2016-12-15T06:01:37","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/?p=13174"},"modified":"2016-12-14T10:17:29","modified_gmt":"2016-12-14T16:17:29","slug":"social-death-an-address","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/archives\/13174","title":{"rendered":"Social Death, an Address"},"content":{"rendered":"

–with a nod to Terrance Hayes<\/em><\/p>\n

I write to you from the predicament of Blackness.
\nYou see, I\u2019ve been here all my life and found
\non the atomic level, it\u2019s impossible to walk through
\nmost doorways. I can, however, move through
\nwalls. I write to you from the empty seat that isn\u2019t
\nempty, from a tenure-track train to Angola
\nPenitentiary. I write to you when a feel is copped.
\nI write myself out of bed. I write to you as the spook
\nwho sat by the door. I write to you from Olivia Pope\u2019s
\napolitical mouth. One of us gets liminal every
\nso often, slides through a doorway like a slice of rye
\nor pumpernickel into the toaster. Toast is a grain
\ncremated twice. Once through its skin. Once cross
\nsectioned. I am here because I could never get the hang
\nof body death, though its been presented to me,
\nlike one would offer a roofied cocktail or high-interest
\nloan. I am only here because I started eating again.
\nI am only here because I am ineligible to exist
\notherwise. I\u2019m only here. When your mother went
\nappliance shopping she had the option of purchasing
\nmy hands. When your boyfriend went out for groceries
\nhe returned with my breasts in a twist-tied bag.
\nWhen my name is read aloud, the vowels become
\nspaces for a man to enter. I\u2019m only here because
\nI left and returned through an Atlantic wormhole.
\nIn the American version, Eurydice is knocked up
\nbefore the viper injects her with death. In the
\nAmerican version, the fetus is Black. Eurydice dies.
\nHer death is not physical. In the American version,
\nthe fetus dies, and its death is physical. In the American
\nversion, Orpheus\u2019 lyre is a gun. Eurydice thinks
\nof doctors, or, rather a cold hand. It feels like one
\nis sliding its sterile nails over the curtains of her womb.
\nOnce, a healer\u2019s hands passed through my flesh,
\nand I went on trial for stealing ten fingers. My spoon
\nscrapes the bottom of a bowl, and it sounds
\nlike a choir of my siblings naming stars after
\ntheir favorite meals. Physicists are classifying new
\nmatters and energies. Dark matter, Black flesh are in
\nhigh demand, and we never see a penny. I urge you.
\nIf you see a sister walk through walls or survive
\nthe un-survivable, sip your drink and learn to forget
\nor love the taxed apparition before you.<\/p>\n

Xandria Phillips<\/a><\/h6>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

–with a nod to Terrance Hayes I write to you from the predicament of Blackness. You see, I\u2019ve been here all my life and found on the atomic level, it\u2019s impossible to walk through most doorways. I can, however, move through walls. I write to you from the empty seat that isn\u2019t empty, from a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":647,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[50],"tags":[25],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6Jypy-3qu","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13174"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/647"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13174"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13174\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13363,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13174\/revisions\/13363"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13174"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13174"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13174"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}