Written by Jaryd Porter
I honor men and women with art, not violence. I don’t have enough red paint for the hate I want to write on the walls of drugstores, town halls, and libraries. That’s a blessing. Not having the space for my hate. Making space for the whispers of survivors when the chalice overflows with martyrs.
She is a whisper on the wind.
I’ll whisper back. I will paint the palace you return to. A place where you’re known for your resilience, not your numerical placement on a most-wanted list. In this palace, you’re celebrated as a woman who did not have to die for those who loved her, but had to live. In a whisper, you did live. Your story is yours, not his. So, this palace is a whisper of gratitude. I don’t think we need to shout here, but I will if you think I should. And I will paint your palace over the coats of dried blood. Silence is an unspoken sound and so is your truth. But I’ll speak it. Even at a whisper. Freedom is the right to…
After Common, After Assata Shakur
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Jaryd Porter is a writer from Lawrence, Kansas who writes about identity, perception, and intersectionality. He has an MFA in Creative Writing Fiction from Wichita State University and is currently studying to earn his PhD in Creative Writing from Oklahoma State University. His previously published works include “Obama Black” at Fleas on the Dog and Fiction on the Web, “That Sinking Feeling” at JAKE, and “Dance of Hours” at Feign.