White power is a body without a soul. Black subjugation is soul that cannot possess its rightful body.
Dear Sir, When I was nineteen, I told my creative writing professor what I wanted to write about in my next short story: the Halloween party where my friends and I were groped by anonymous hands in a very large crowd.
This is my fight: to be nothing, to be everything, to listen.
There is nothing safe about being a writer. There is nothing safe about being an artist. Our art can only be as safe as we are, which is to say, never.
A teacher once admonished me: Just write the damn story!
Why doesn’t this comfort me?
A Muslim who does not practice or believe is generally regarded as safe. It is in the act of prayer that I become potentially dangerous.
Do not engage. Do not dispute. Do not contend. Do not alert the world that you too have a body that needs to breathe.
This film in question is Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, and its aesthetic failures seem to be a direct result of its ethical failures.
After reading my story, people often ask me if I see the nature of my characters’ problems as deeply related to our own in the here and now. The answer is a resounding yes. And in fact I see my story, like so much of visionary fiction, as a future anthropology.
You must create what you think must be said, what you think should be done… Perhaps the best art takes on the world in some way, destroys it & recreates it, draws reader and writer alike closer to the complexity of the globe or even of that planet’s place in a far vaster universe of which we are specks on a pale blue dot, a dot near-invisible on the map of the cosmos.