Venus Kii Thomas

Tag: poetry

  • My 35th Birthday Is an Invisible Grammy

    Good Morning Friends, Community, Comrades, People… and Bitches and Motherfuckers,

    Consider this statement the birthday speech! Here we go…

    It’s the 3rd day of Black Liberation/Pride Month and my 4th day of my 35th year on Earth. In the days leading up to my entrance into this year, it became more clear that I had a lot to say that couldn’t be properly summarized in a few social media posts.

    34 was an immense closure. Many doors automatically closed. Many doors I had to work to close. And as those doors were closing, I found myself claiming the age of 35 a few months prematurely. Because that’s how I was feeling. The development of a new skin, the heightening of an attitude that has always wanted to storm from my bones. 

    Once upon a time, I didn’t think I would make it to 27. Then 30 came and I was shocked I got this far. For a little while, I thought, “what the fuck am I doing here? what kind of sense does this make?” Apparently there were more puzzle pieces to gather. Such is life.

    But making it to 35? It’s the debunking of a myth. Not just of the widely reported, anxiety-inducing, and fabrication of the life expectancy of Black trans women in the United States. Arriving here debunks the entire myth and lie that was sewn into my life, my psyche, and my spirit.

    That I was always supposed to be dead. To act dead. To perform and project death. 

    The door opened to 35. And I believe it was age that I was always supposed to reach. 

    BEHOLD… MY SECOND ACT, BITCHES!!!!!!!!!!! EVERYONE KNOWS THE SECOND ACT IS BETTER THAN THE FIRST IN LIFE!! 

    I’ve reflected on the lives my people have lived, including many of the people I don’t know in my bloodstream. There’s a heavy history of not being able to achieve a second act because of trauma, pain, violence, abuse, fear, internalizations, hurt… so much hurt… unable to truly locate the God within themselves. But what has kept me together, somehow, is the fact that I am someone’s manifestation of existing in this lifetime. 

    I AM SOMEONE’S MANIFESTATION OF EXISTING IN THIS LIFETIME. HOW ALCHEMICAL CAN YOU GET?…

    As another sun rises over Baltimore, it is another confirmation of having entered the other side. I have made it to a place I never thought I’d get to – the years where I choose to live the best life, to do the impossible, to defy gravity, to… What’s something higher than flying? Whatever that is, THAT THING! 

    Everything… had to be burned down for me to arrive here. And when you burn it down, you don’t look back.

    For those of you who grew up in the church, you probably know the song: We will tell the story of how we’ve overcome and we’ll understand it better by and by… 

    I am blessed to be here. I am honored to be here. And I’m incredibly thankful to the leagues of Ancestors, Family, Friends, Community, Lovers, Comrades… Yes, and Bitches and Motherfuckers… who have loved me, taught me, cared for me, witnessed me, and read me for filth…

    LOOK… I’m not sorry… THE HEALING ERA IS THE UNHINGED ERA. Y’all may not believe this but I actually forgot how unhinged I am (thanks COVID, you trifling nervous bastard!)… so I’m making up for lost time!!!

    *inserts moment where I chuck an invisible Grammy into the stage floor*

    I ain’t done yet. My grandmothers in heaven say I’m not done yet. The Ancestors say I’m not done yet. Spirit says I’m not done yet. They all say, Child, this is just the fucking beginning!

    And with all of that being said, you truly have not seen anything yet. And if you are reading this, thank you too. I hope to see you again here. You might buy my next record or service… or you might catch me in your city. Who knows? We have the ability to change any and everything, do anything, between birth and death. In between all of that is LIFE.

    xoxo

    venus kii thomas

  • The Choice of Catharsis

    The Choice of Catharsis

    Written April 21, 2025

    We have not entered a stage of catharsis. Catharsis is necessary. We are experiencing transient periods of relief. That is not the same as catharsis. 

    Catharsis is a requirement for the sustainability of humanity.

    We have forgotten about catharsis. Many of us don’t know what it is.

    The systems we have in place, the powers that rule, the powers that be, the authorities, all of them do not care to know or experience catharsis. Or rehabilitation. So why would they share interest or investment in such a thing? They are built to be distanced away from the indigenous, from the divine, from the ancient.

    The systems inspire us to travel on conquests for power. To them, power is salvation and security. And once you have it, you can never lose. Systemic power is an illusion. 

    Systemic power and catharsis can’t exist and thrive in the same space. In order for catharsis to occur, systemic power has to surrender and dismantle. Which of these is easier? I believe that to be systemic power. Systemic power requires lies. It is fueled by falsehood. If it operated on truth, we would be experiencing a different reality as a collective of humans around the world. But systems refuse to stand in their truth, to acknowledge the truth, therefore, we have the lies.

    And as victims of systemic power and oppression, we are indoctrinated to treat and abuse our bodies as active parts of the system. We work. We ignore. We avoid. We harm. The system teaches us to do that, and we are never taught to release, to rehabilitate, to correct, to heal.

    Because what does the system care about healing? The system cares about its operation continuing, no matter who gets hurt in the process. 

    If the system continues to operate, if we continue to give allegiance to the system, to systemic power, to oppression, then we shrink the spaces for catharsis, for repair, for holiness. 

    And we can’t exist without holiness. Truly exist.

    We exist in chronic devilish function or abundant holiness. You can only choose one of these paths. Holiness contains catharsis. And no matter the level of devilish function one is under, holiness can always be a choice or determination. Releasing and combating devilish function is an act of catharsis.

    Choose catharsis. Choose release. More of us must choose catharsis in our own lives so that our world may enter healing. If we don’t, everyone suffers – you, me, us, the world. 

    I choose catharsis. I will always choose catharsis. 

    Again, we have not collectively chosen catharsis, or entered into it together. We need more individuals and smaller collectives and communities of people to do this.

    How many problems do we have on this planet? In the areas we live, create, work, and play? How many oppressions do we have? Harms? Genocides? Ignorances? Prejudices? Misunderstandings? Disconnections? Abuses? Violences? Mistakes?

    We keep choosing all of the above as a people. The system chooses it. The system will always choose the same thing until it can’t tower over everyone and everything. 

    The true answer lies in choosing differently, in choosing catharsis, in activating it for our future. And I understand the difficulty in grasping belief without seeing proof – the future has informed us catharsis is the choice. Our descendents have told us.

    Therefore, you might as well choose it in this moment. 

    Choose relief. We will experience the same old, same old.

    Choose catharsis. We will win for the rest of our existences.

  • The Return to Writing Publicly

    The Return to Writing Publicly

    “You can’t say, ‘One teaspoon of this, or one teaspoon of that.’ Like a musician, you improvise. It’s like being on a spirit plane; you put the proper things in without knowing why. It comes out wonderful when it’s done like that. If you plan it, it doesn’t work.” – Sun Ra

    I found this quotation in a biography on the groundbreaking musician Sun Ra. It’s titled Space Is the Place: The Lives and Times of Sun Ra, written by John F. Szwed. This book has been in my possession, a giveaway from an old friend, and I’ve never traveled among the pages until now. If I’m going to listen to Sun Ra, and I do, then it makes sense to read about his life. Or lives.

    At the start of a difficult morning, the book was in my bed. I grabbed it, performing an act of bibliomancy and said, “Turn me to a poem I need.”

    The text doesn’t give the appearance of a poem. Yet what Sun Ra says is a poem. Additionally, it is guidance on how to write a poem. My request was answered.

    In the preceding paragraph, Szwed states Sun Ra’s wisdom came from a moment when he was asked to share the recipe for a musician’s cookbook. And that’s what genius was offered.

    Do you know how amazing this would have been to discover this teaching at the age of 28 when I was in the preamble stages of my experiments on piano? Instead of mentally surrendering to the falsehood I wasn’t doing anything right because I wasn’t “properly trained” or failed at my few encounters with traditional musical instruction via instrument? It would’ve been important to hear then. The seas of doubt had a chance to evaporate among the clatter of discordant playing.

    In another world, I’m sure, I stumble upon the words of Sun Ra at that age, sitting at my piano, and the doubt is murdered.

    But I found it this morning. The me I am right now, a Black person of transfeminine Goddexx experience in my mid-30s, preparing to shape my own musical artistry in ways I never have before. Regardless of how I feel about years past, Sun Ra’s offering was meant to be read when I discovered it.

    This reminds me of a visit I had almost two months ago. I went to see a friend, Cunty MeMe; they are a brilliant musician. I hadn’t seen them in years and there was a window for us to see each other. During our time, I recall stating my confusion on where to take my music because I was overwhelmed with the multitude of directions. And you can’t move forward in all those sounds at once – something I remain struggling to keep in mind whenever I’m working on, or thinking about music. Cunty encouraged me to return to the drum, the djembe – I’m not even sure they knew if I had one but I do; her name is SojournerQuest. But whether they knew that information or not, it was a grand insight. The drum is the mother of rhythm.

    My own maternal grandmother even told me that in her own way – when I was having strong anger issues, she said to use my drum.

    I returned to the drum. Physically. A lot came out of it. Yet this confusion kept resurfacing. At this point, I continue to feel stretched out through all the directions my soul is calling me to take. My creative existence, a pair of legs stretching as far as they could, risking injury if I go one more half-inch.

    I didn’t understand the real drum until writing this. I’m blessed to have my djembes. I’m blessed to have my percussion. Among these blessings of sound, the real drum I needed to return to was the drum of my creative life. That drum has always been affiliated with my own words.

    Godthefuckdammnit… A way my life moves is by writing about my life.

    Who the hell lied to me and said that the world doesn’t want to hear about my life? I lean towards the belief the lie was concocted in my head.

    One of my boogeymen lied. That’s all boogeymen do. They defecate evil and they lie. And the residue stays behind if we don’t properly perform our maintenance.

    In the closure of my 34th year, I have not only remembered that writing is my primary craft, which is connected to every other craft and gift I have, but that writing is the drum of my life. What I create matters. What I have to say about what I create matters just as much and is a root of my creativity.

    I’ll be goddamned.

    And as the rain falls down on another hump day where I know I need to practice gentleness with my body, as my cat sleeps at my feet, I bow in gratitude on the inside of myself for choosing great friends and mentors.

    Because, chile, if you got them, use what they give you.