One Night Stanzas

The Making It Home Project officially “ended” in June 2013 (I put “ended” in quotemarks because of course such a project never ends — our films are still being seen by interested eyeballs and there are still ideas for events and other exciting follow-up things in the works. Hopefully more on that soon!). I’d meant to write this post then, as things wrapped up. Then life got in the way, as life likes to do. But I didn’t forget about the post…

Mainly, I wanted to share some of the photos I took at the various MIH events in June, when we took our inspiring band of powerhouse women on the road to showcase their work. For folks not involved in the project, these just look like photos of people… but they’re a testament to the great achievements of everyone involved in the project.

Up at the top there, for example, is Sheena, one of our fabulous filmmaking women. In the photo, she’s addressing the Scottish Storytelling Centre’s cinema/lecture theatre, full of folks who came to their screening of our films. In this photo, she looks like the world expert in her field… because she is. All the women who took part in our project can now call themselves experts in the field of filmmaking. How cool is that?

Some of our women hanging out at our various events. Only a year ago they’d never met, and many of them were daunted by the prospect of working together, especially when filmmaking was such an unknown quantity. In next to no time, however, they formed a hugely productive creative community, achieving gobsmacking things. They — heck, we! I include myself here 100%! — have also formed friendships that, I hope, will last lifetimes. I want to thank all of them equally for their hard work, their courage in the face of the scary cameras and sometimes-tricky conversations, and the wicked humour and energy they deployed throughout. You guys made films that changed the way people (myself included) looked at the world. AMAZING!

Here’s Rema Sherifi, who’s of the most impressive women I have ever met. (Seriously. Just look at her story.) Rema runs the Maryhill Integration Network, where she’s made a difference to hundreds of lives. Without Rema’s expert guidance and great wisdom, our project could never have happened.

Here’s Esa Aldegheri, our brilliant project leader and another super inspiring woman! Throughout the project, she’s been a quiet but vital presence, doing constant hard work behind the scenes, tirelessly plotting and preparing so that the rest of us could carry out our work with minimal disruption. I wish I had even a tenth of her patience and calm… I’m basically convinced that Esa could (and should) run the world! Can we make this happen, please?

Lynda Peachey (left) was my closest “co-worker” on the project, and basically, my rock (I mean it) whenever things went wrong. She was always ready with a cup of tea, a filthy joke, or some sage advice whenever and wherever it was needed. She was also there with hugs and smiles when things went right, which is just as important! I’m starting to keep a mental list of the various Wise Women in my life, and Lynda tops that list.
And Vilte Vaitkute (right) is just a sickmakingly talented filmmaker and facilitator of all-things-film-related. While the rest of us get all nostalgic about this great project coming to a close, Vilte’s still working hard to keep our films in circulation, and to get new eyeballs in all sorts of exciting places to see them. Her colleague Catherine Weir — who managed to avoid all my photos! — also deserves tons of credit for this work. They’re a fearsome and brilliant team!

A few more fine folks who deserve praise: first up, Jane McKie, who some of you may already know as a bloody excellent poet, winner of the Edwin Morgan Poetry Prize and all sorts of other accolades. Jane worked as my opposite number on the project, working her magic in Maryhill while I kept an eye on things in Pilton. I feel really privileged to have worked with such a fine poet and such a genuinely lovely person. Thank you, Jane!

Next up, Rachel Farrier — who looks like a 1940s movie star all the time, incidentally, not just in this photo! Rachel was another vital presence on the project, working away tirelessly to make our lives as straightforward as possible. She also co-ordinated much of our events tour in June, and got loads of real actual human beings to come and sit in seats and watch the films the women made. Massive props to her partner in crime David Farrier, too — another person who apparently avoided my camera at all times, but who deserves to be warmly thanked and celebrated here nevertheless!

Lucinda Broadbent is another of these women who’s so impressive you feel like you ought to be a bit frightened of them. Look at all the amazing stuff she’s done! However, being frightened of someone so warm and smiley is rather tricky. Instead you just feel chuffed to have met and worked with such a total pro.

And last but by no means least is Alison Hughes, who was at my side almost every minute of the project, making sure that the women and I had all the help and support we needed. Without Alison’s presence, I would have felt considerably less confident in our various workshops and discussion sessions — lady, you really were invaluable. (PS: Alison is also a GREAT yoga teacher, and if you’re in Edinburgh, you should go to her classes!)

Finally, I need to thank everyone else who was even vaguely involved with making this project work — staff from Maryhill Integration Network and the Pilton Community Health Project; all the folks from our partner organisations who aren’t mentioned here; Alan Lennon, and all our Sponsume donors, who helped make our book a reality… and any friend or family member who supported anyone involved as we worked through our exhausting and rewarding year!

Here we all are, dancing with proper, unfettered joy at our final screening and farewell bash. If you’ve read this far, you surely want to see what all the fuss is about… please do scroll down and take the time to watch the four films that the fabulous folks above all worked incredibly hard to create. (You can also watch the Making Of Making It Home right down at the bottom.) If you like what you see — if these films make you laugh, cry, think differently about the world — please do pass them on, share them, and widen the conversation. The wonderful women of Making It Home made these films for you. I hope you love them.

“The Shortest and Sweetest of Songs,” by Team Sami, Maryhill

“It Could Happen To You,” by the Dream Team, Pilton

“Choice,” by Team Choice, Maryhill

“Come Home,” by The Sweeties, Pilton

The Making of Making It Home

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So, it appears that a few days ago, I said some stuff (on Twitter) that pissed some people off. (I know, I know — so what’s new?) I’m generally seeing this as a good thing (I’ve started a conversation that needs to be had, IMHO), however, the statements most folk have seen aren’t as well worded as I’d like them to be (because Twitter), so I felt I ought to take to the blogosphere to clarify. Also, there’s a comment box here. Yay!

So what did you say now, you serial pain-in-the-butt?!
Basically, I wrote a tweet in which I celebrated the fact that Colin McGuire (that’s THE GREAT Colin McGuire to you, sunshine) had won his heat of the Edinburgh Fringe Fest BBC Poetry Slam. All fine and dandy, except in typical flip style, I added that this made me less inclined to think that said slam was a load of bollocks, or something to that effect.

Well, that’s pretty rude.
Yeah, it was rude. It also didn’t show a whole lot of respect for the many people who put a lot of time and effort into making the Beeb slam happen — particularly the performers, many of whom I not only admire as poets but also feel in awe of as humans generally. Nothing about these people’s work is a load of bollocks, and I apologise for being a totally crap human and tweeting that. Seriously: I’m sorry guys. (The tweet is still up btw. I take full ownership of my assholeishness.)

So that’s it?
Nope. Fortunately, the rest of what I said is a bit more coherent. Off the back of that tweet, I got chatting with the excellent Mr Bram E Geiben, who very sensibly prodded me and asked me to explain myself. He wanted to know the reason why I was not a fan of the Beeb slam. And the reason is its lack of diversity. No reflection on the performers — I’m sure it’s an absolutely cracking night’s entertainment (in fact, it’s a week’s worth! And free!). But I said that I felt — ’cause I do feel — that this event is a good example of the fact that Scottish spoken word (and poetry in general) needs to do more to include a wider range of voices.

Poetry in general?
Yeah. Actually, in comparison to “page poetry” (since folk insist on the divide I’m just going with it here, btw), any and all spoken word is far better at this diversity stuff. Read the Free Verse report if you don’t believe me.

So, what’s the issue?
OK, here’s where I make things a bit clearer. Because Twitter, one of my tweets made it sound like I was suggesting that the Beeb slam didn’t include enough queer poets. This isn’t the case — I think queer voices were generally well represented, and I think this is something Scottish spoken word is actually pretty good at, for the most part. What we need to work harder at is including, encouraging and promoting the work of poets of colour, disabled poets, trans* poets, and poets who maybe feel uncertain about getting involved because they fall outside the age range of the vast majority of spoken word performers (let’s say 21-35). Poets whose work is at an intersection, or intersections, in short (aha, now you understand my choice of top-of-post photo!) Lots of grassroots and regular local poetry nights are already working on this, and set a good example. Bigger, flashier events — especially ones like the Beeb slam that draw huge crowds, have money behind them, and claim to represent the national scene — ought to be following this example. When they don’t, I get pretty disappointed.

But isn’t it tokenism to include poets of colour/disabled poets/trans* poets etc, just for the sake of it?
Yep, but that’s not what I’m suggesting. We have this vicious cycle where poets whose voices are at intersections get less gigs (unpacking the reasons why is not something I feel qualified to do here, btw), which means promoters/audiences don’t get to hear about them, which means they get less gigs, which means… etc. These poets are no less talented than the ones who get gigs all the time, so including them is not tokenism. It just takes a bit more effort.
What I’m suggesting is that big, flashy events with lots of cash do the stuff that smaller events can’t or can’t afford to do. Big promoters who run “national” events have the ability (and if you ask me, the responsibility) to do the necessary research to find good poets from all walks of life and bring them to our attention. They have the ability to accommodate a variety of performer needs — travel expenses, accessibility, creating a safe space etc — in a way smaller events and un- or less-well-funded promoters might not be able to afford. They can do it, so they freakin’ well oughtta.

OK, but what makes you the oracle? Are you even a promoter? When was the last time YOU EVEN DID A SLAM?!
Nothing makes me the oracle, nothing at all! (In fact, I thought I was just having a wee chat with Bram — because I’m a bit of a numpty and forgot that Twitter is a public forum.) I’m just one poet who yeah, has actually retired from slams ’cause they scare the crap out of me. No one is in any way obliged to listen to me or do anything about anything as a result of what I say. If I decide your event’s not cool and don’t show up, I doubt it’s going to hurt you any. So feel free to totally ignore my grumpy feminist ass and carry on regardless.
However, I do still perform in Scotland (I’ve been on a hiatus for a while because two jobs & finishing a PhD & renovating a house & & &, but I’ll be back soon I hope), and I yeah, am a promoter. I want Scottish spoken word to be as awesome as it can possibly be, not just so my poetry can benefit, but so that more folk — folk like the women I worked with on the Making It Home Project, for example — can feel confident to rock up to an open mic or a slam with their poems in their hand and take to the stage.

So all the events you’ve ever organised have been perfect, have they?
Oh hell no. I’ve only really started to think about this stuff since I got properly into being an intersectional (feminist) activist, which I am still learning how to do. I was pretty proud of my International Women’s Day All-Female slam last year, and I am so, so proud of the work Making It Home have done to bring poetry and spoken word to brand new audiences (NB: I an take credit for barely any of this — the rest of the MIH team was absolutely stellar and deserve all the praise). However, with other events I ran in the past — like Watskyx2, for example — I was far too worried about how find a venue and how to get people through the door and how to balance the books and WHAT TO WEAR WHEN I MET GEORGE WATSKY to worry about making sure my line-up was inclusive and my event welcoming. So I understand that it’s hard. I’m still learning. I just want to get folk thinking about it!

You’re always complaining though. Don’t you ever say anything NICE?
THIS IS A TOTALLY FAIR POINT. I think I may have become the Grumpy Old Bag of Scottish poetry, which is a title I can happily live with if it gets people having important conversations about how to make our scene more welcoming, diverse and generally fab. BUT YES, there is a lot going on in Scottish spoken word that needs to be celebrated. Too much to list everything here, in fact, but my highlights would include the following:
- Inky Fingers do freaking great work, full stop.
- I’m really sad Ten Red is no more. That was a hell of a poetry night, and I will mourn it for a long time.
- New kids on the block Tricolour and Rally & Broad HELLO THERE. I am sorry I have yet to make it along to EITHER because of MY LIFE GOING AT 90MPH. However, there’s no question that these events are exciting and exciting poets are reading at them. (I am honoured to have been invited to read at Tricolour in September and I hope very much to be in the audience at Rally & Broad soon.)
- Blind Poetics. One of Edinburgh’s most accessible open mic platforms, and they now have a publication, which is extra exciting.
- There are so, so many individual poets whose work I love but here’s just a small selection: Camilla Chen, Colin McGuire, Theresa Munoz, Kevin Cadwallender, Sally Evans, Chris Emslie (I hope the US appreciates you, ’cause Scotland sure misses you!), Gayle Smith, Graeme Hawley, Rachel Amey, Priscilla Chueng-Nainby, Anne Connolly, Mira Knoche, Tracey Rosenberg, Nuala Watt, the aforementioned Bram Geiben, Ryan Van Winkle, Samuel Tongue, Jenny Lindsay, Nancy Somerville… OK, you get the message! There are tons of talented folk out there and I am SO HAPPY about this. If I don’t make that happiness clear enough often enough, I sincerely apologise. We’re great! We just could be even more great, basically!

So, what’re you actually doing about it?
I’ve decided it’s time to revive Read This Press. The last anthology I did was the Allen Ginsberg birthday one, and it was one of the most fun things I’ve ever had the pleasure to be involved in. (Some of you may recall I was planning a similar Adrienne Rich themed anthology? Yeah, that was before I found out she was a transphobe. Aint no way I’m celebrating that, thank you very much. More details on this soon.) That was two years ago and it’s time for the next thing.
I haven’t worked all the details out yet, but I want to create an anthology (the usual hand-made, DIY, zine-y style, of course) that celebrates poets whose voices a) are Scottish or connected with Scotland and b) explore an intersection or intersections. I’m still figuring it out, but watch this space for more details.

I think that’s it. However, if you want to clarify anything, ask anything, or yell at me, you can do so in the comment box. You’ll go in the mod queue, because everything does (sorry). I’ll get you approved asap, though.

(Photo credit)