late stage summer: missed connections, audre's legacy, demure vs brat

also, hi, i'm back after a hiatus with a new-ish approach

It’s deep August and the threat of winter is draining all my mana stores. However, I did recently make a dank bone broth using lamb bones, star anise and a shitton of garlic that was very fall-coded but it was a fluke as I avoided savory herbs and put a ton of corn cobs and lemon in there, so I’m not sure why it tastes like a autumn in a cup. But sometimes the universe has a plan for you that you cannot deny. 

Some quick housekeeping: Hiii everyone! It’s been a long time since I’ve sent a newsletter. Thank you to all who stuck around and my apologies to those got fed up and bounced. I get it and would have done the same. I initially paused this newsletter because I was trying to funnel all of my spare energy into my next book and it felt hard to divert resources from the main task. But I recently turned in some revisions and my neurospice brain convinced me that picking this back up for a bit might force me to be more disciplined. (We’ll see how long it lasts). I’m experimenting with formats (Naima called it “ADD - in a good way”). I’m considering some interview series, book reviews, etc. There may even be a name/logo refresh. I’m very open to suggestions about what you’d like to see if you have any! Feel free to leave a comment or drop me a line at jennydeluxe@gmail.com. I also no longer have a dedicated editor who reads over these missives before they go out, so forgive the inevitable grammatical errors and looping thoughts. (Many thanks to Chris Gayomali of Heavies fame for hyping me up and proof-reading this draft).

For today’s edition I’ve decided to offer an omakase of light cultural criticism. It’s mostly vignettes of whatever I’ve been putting into the group chats.

Demure vs Demonic

The frenzy over “demure” proved two things to me. First, people are still eager (desperate?) for collective, fun experiences online and second, it’s hard to manufacture brilliance, especially online. TikTokspeak rarely migrates into the mainstream (hence the proliferation of brainrottok where people lament over being the only ones in their circle who reference lesser known jokes and sounds from the site). For example, “show me to me Rachel ” is hilarious, but it is solidly an in-app joke. Demure is a way of life, it’s a vibe. It’s like brat in that way. Anyone who didn’t quite get brat (and honestly, does anyone, DM me), or feel 100pc comfortable outing themselves as a party girlie could jump on this train instead. It’s easy to adapt and clever (even if it ultimately has a verrrry short half-life). Apparently someone has already trademarked the phrase, which is a(nother) fascinating case study in how much the genius of historically marginalized people continues to fuel popular culture and gets co-opted and commercialized beyond their control. (Anyone remember Jalaiah and the Renegade?). It’ll be interesting to see how that one plays out. I’m rooting for you, Jools Lebron! I’ve also been tickled by the (lesser) rise of the demonic/deranged memes that refuse the aesthetic of dainty for the honesty of chaos.

Moving Towards Each Other, Not Away

The warping of relationships during the time of solutionism is very topical right now. Delia had a great roundup on attempts to hack our connections to ourselves and each other. I’ve also been digesting this New York Magazine piece on how friendships form and fracture through the lens of Snapchat. The sharp Casey Lewis, who writes one my favorite newsletters “After School,” interviewed a 16-year-old named Leah who has been using the app for the past four years.

“Snapchat is really good at making everyone involved think that they care about you,” she says. “You send streaks to people or you snap them, then you have this idea in your head that you’re friends now. It’s like, No, you’re freaking not, man. They’re just on this app, and you are, too.” 

As a counterweight, I’ve been reading adrienne maree brown’s new book “Loving Corrections” that (among other things) focuses on strengthening our ability to come together in person and have hard conversations. amb believes its not enough to recognize and denounce the way social media interferes with our ability to communicate with ourselves and each other — we have to learn how to tolerate discomfort, discernment and boundary work. It’s worth a read.

The Afterlives of Audre Lorde

I spent a large portion of the summer immersed in the scholarship of the incredibly talented Alexis Pauline Gumbs and her work to reframe Audre Lorde’s activism through the lens of the planet and the entire species. I specifically wanted to research memory work as practice and the work of Black feminists to steward Black legacies. The story ran in the New York Times Magazine — here’s a gift link if you want to read it. Spending time in Audre’s archive brought up so many questions — the cost of fear, what we lose when we turn people into monuments, the purpose of power. I also believe her spirit contacted me (!) while I was working on the book. 

Here’s an excerpt detailing our encounters that got cut from the final draft:

Gumbs told me that Lorde has a way of making her presence known in the lives of those studying her work. She was right: While doing research for this story, temperatures in New York hit a disturbing high peak and hovered there, relentlessly. One day, unable to bear the rich humidity, I packed a light tote and sought out refuge in the cooling ocean breeze. Brighton Beach was quickest. When I was arrived and got settled on the sand, I flipped open a book to resume my reading. My dogear pointed me to a paragraph about Lorde’s time renting an apartment in the exact same neighborhood to save money. I wondered if I could see her building from my perch near the water.  A few days later, after an interview with one of Lorde’s mentees offered up plethora of gems on Audre’s deep connection to Yoruba spirituality, I spontaneously agreed to go to a dance workshop without glancing at the schedule first. One of the first workshops was learning to praise the Orishas, the gods and goddesses that play key roles in the religion. 

Like the rest of Black feminist Internet, I have been riveted by the revelation that Lorde’s friendship with June Jordan disintegrated over their differing approaches to speaking publicly about Palestine. (The brilliant Marina Maglore wrote a piece for LRB that sparked much of the dialogue, and Alexis’ book details the rift as well). June occupies a special in my heart. I wrote an introduction on her for the new reissue of “I Know What the Red Clay Looks Like” (with a forward by Salamishah Tillet!)  that addresses the paradox of her poems going viral in 2024 and the ostracization that she suffered in her lifetime. APG is generous in the way she points out in her book that we can’t ever truly know happened between them. We assume they never spoke again, but “maybe one of the picked up the phone,” she wonders. There may be details that we don’t yet have access to: Some of Jordan’s correspondence will remain sealed until 2050. Both Audre and June continued to teach each other’s poetry for the remainder of their lives. A year after Lorde died, Jordan wrote a warm tribute that included the line “in the middle of our fighting for freedom, we found ourselves free beyond fear and beyond capitulation.” She ended her celebration with the words “here is my love that I place in your capable hands until we meet again.”

Summer movies are back

A friend invited me to see Twisters and I agreed, in desperate need of two hours of mindless dissociation and uncut dopamine. But I was amazed by how much I enjoyed it. It’s a great movie about corporate greed and the climate crisis that is also self-aware (there’s a scene in a theater where the tornado rips out the screen and then dances in the space left behind that is pure unadulterated camp).  Glenn Powell as a vlogger with heart of gold who keeps his tiny mouth to himself is the only acceptable vehicle for him in my mind. No notes. 

The next week, the same friend and I went to see Trap. It was the perfect amount of silly, apparently built around M. Night Shyamalan’s daughter’s pop star fever dreams. I try to see all M. Night movie in theaters. I admire his perseverance. There’s something to learn there. What is it like to make work long after you’ve peaked? To accept failure, and keep trying anyway? To trust, perhaps, something better might still be ahead? It is truly inspiring to me right now.

I still can’t wait to see Cuckoo, Blink Twice, Didi and the new Beetlejuice remake. However, the best movie of the summer *might* be Guillermo del Toro live-tweeting about paranormal activity at his hotel in Scotland, where he’s shooting a new Frankestein adaptation.

As soon as he arrived, GDT camped out in a room that someone else had already been too freaked out to sleep in. Someone on Twitter asked him what possessed him to move towards the ghost, not away from it. He replied “I always stay in the most haunted room.” There are icons and then there are ICONS.

Before you go

Heat & Hustle, an accountability community for writers of color (inspired by Jami’s fabulous 1000 words challenges) is about to start their September sprint. I’m doing their August one and find myself moved by the vulnerability of other writers sharing raw and still-forming daily pages.

In case you somehow haven’t already seen it, Ta-Nehisi Coates returned with a staggering piece on the DNC’s erasure of Palestinian-Americans. Last week, a United Nations official estimated that ongoing evacuations by Israel in Gaza have displaced 90 percent of the region’s residents. If you are so inclined, here are some ways to raise money to help those in need evacuate to safety. Here’s a fundraiser for Walid Al Zaq and his family, the Kabaja family, and another for Mohammed’s family. E. Alex Jung is also teaching a profile writing workshop in September that will benefit the cause.

PS: Some of my friends opened a lovely new cafe + home goods shop in Bed-Stuy that is worth checking out. Black and queer owned!