Audre Lorde, the “Black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet,” changed my life immensely with her work. Her truth coated words pierced my soul and created a lasting shift in how I tell my story. "Your silence will not save you," she reminds us in a piece given at a Lesbian and Literature panel in Chicago on December 28th, 1977. In her sermon, Lorde reflected upon her premature diagnosis of breast cancer, in which she was set to have surgery for what doctors thought was a malignant tumor. Between the time of medical concern and operation, the presence of her mortality waved heavy on her, prompting her to accomplish a personal "transformation of silence into language and action." The bold declaration became my creed as well.
"What are the words you do not yet have? What do you need to say?" Spoken like a sincere mother of sages, the questions Audre posed help bring life to the stories buried inside of me. My fear will not keep me silent. The visibility of my words will survive so that I am not just merely seen, but my ancestors and future generations will also be recognized. Mother Lorde gave way to self-identify and was unapologetic in how she classified herself. Her assurance offers other women, and me, the power to distinguish how we show up in the world.
As a Black woman, Audre relished in the pride of being the daughter of the Carriacou island. The relationship with her mother, which she documents perfectly in the biomythography, Zami: A New Spelling of My Name, shows the lineage of Black women strength from which she descends. The courage of being a woman of color also gave her insight into the world around her. The unique experience of being a "sister outsider," amongst the women of her community showed that although we may have similarities in our identity, we cannot ignore our differences. Because it is our difference that makes room for the change that benefits us all.
As a warrior, she taught us the essence of intersectionality. Asking us not to be barred by the limitations of how we identify. Because yes, who we are can be intersected in ways that the outside world may not understand, but we show up anyway. We ban together to bring the change that we need to see. And Audre's fighter spirit served her well in doing so.
A prominent native of the Black and queer community, Audre often contended with her white women-loving sisters on how her blackness amplified many of the struggles that she faced. In a country that didn't value her melanin, it was hard for them to conceptualize that her conflict was different from theirs. Yes, they shared a commonality in their sexuality, but her race was not one she could hide at any given time. The world saw her dark skin before they saw her queerness.
As a lesbian, she helped open the doors for other Black women coming after her. Owning her sexuality and being comfortable in saying, yes I love women, gave courage to others who felt similar sentiments. Daring to break free from the confines of a patriarchal definition of femininity, coming into her sexuality took determination. However, agony laid juxtaposed to her freedom. Mother Lorde gave words from the masses when she pens a memory of what being "… young, and black and gay and lonely," felt like — an emotion that resonates with many. But fighting her way through the loneliness to create communities of other sisters is what make Audre a gem. The pain of isolation felt from not seeing full representation in the spaces we occupy should never stop us from creating them.
Let us not forget that all of Ms. Audre's identities were wrapped up in her role as a poet. To her "poetry was not a luxury," but it was essential to us like air. Our stories carry the power that can move us to action. This action is what we need to better our lives and community. And as women, we have a tremendous advantage regarding our sensuality. Our femininity gives way to a world of feelings that can be transmitted into words and movement. The words in our poetry provide a mirror to our inner world which, in turn, can strengthen our society. Writing them, speaking them, giving them life is vital to the existence of ourselves and the environment around us.
So once again, I pose the questions from Mother Lorde. The ones I ponder on each time I sit down and explore my inner world through writing. I leave them to you so that you may give thought and ask, "What are the words you do not yet have? What do you need to say?"
