We were known as the Token Asians, all 8 of us. The 2%. To each other, we called ourselves the Wildflowers.
I had a taste of the sublime on stage. And I wanted more.
Like the California wildflower super bloom seen from space, I imagined us making revolutionary impacts beyond this world and creating oceanic waves backward and forward in time.
This expression of our erotic power, an ecstatic act of loving ourselves so deeply and sensually, a divine gift of vulnerability to our ancestors, our mothers, our daughters, our future.
A release for the lineage of the exotic ties that bound us to cultural conventions and convictions.
A reclamation of our bodies, our life-force, our freedom.
Together, as sisters, soaring as the great flock of royal albatrosses.
They: How dare she?
Me: How could I not?
They: How dare she and the others?
Me: How could I not invite them?
They: How dare she and the others receive an audience?
Me: How could I not grant our creativity witnesses?
They: How dare she and the others not see the danger?
Me: How could I not, for it’s what courses in my veins as in theirs?
They: How dare she and the others take it to the outsiders?
Me: How could I not share these as inspirations to create new worlds?
I had this burning desire to dance on stage and create a show. It didn't make sense to me. For I am a wallflower, who am I to be a STAR?
Yet, its yearning, longing, urging would not abate.
This is the Wildflower Revolution.
with wild love,
C xx
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