The good women we’ve lost — Candy Royalle, Dorkas Kossay; a new (old) way of thinking about #Metoo, an interviewing workshop from me. Telling Incel to get effed through poetry.
GOOD WOMEN
A couple of weeks ago I got a call from Miles Merril, who asked me to fill in as a performing poet on a side stage at TEDX in Sydney while he spoke on the main stage. I was told Candy Royalle was feeling ill and couldn’t perform, so I was going to take her place. I felt so bad about her missing it. I talked to my friend that afternoon and we agreed that such was the greatness of Candy Royalle that being the Plan B ring-up was an honour in itself. But to be in the shadow of Candy Royalle is basically to be living in Sydney and into poetry. She took over our beloved Word In Hand spoken word night, and consistently curated unbelievable nights of storytelling. We’d walk away in wonder at these poets — these performers Candy had found in her teaching and travels. Every month, we felt grateful. Really.
She passed away last week. She’d been fighting ovarian cancer for a few years and she shared that like she shared her all her work. Her honesty forced me to think about how I tell stories. Her performances were fierce and raw. See her, really- just watch her on stage. It’s so devastating the world has lost her.
At TEDX I performed a few things, one of them called Poem for my Unborn Daughter. I mention it because I wrote it in the spirit of certain women, one of them being Candy, though I felt too shy to tell her that. And because it was featured on the Word in Hand podcast a couple of months ago (at 3:50). That meant a lot. As much as Candy’s poetry took up space— it was huge and sensual and raging— she constantly made space for others.
I don’t want to write here only about good women passing, but it feels like that’s all that has happened. Another woman died recently. Dorkas Kossay. She was a young activist and storyteller, operating in challenging circumstances with grace, humour and bad-assery. I was honoured to meet her. My feeds were full of mourning for this strong woman.
And then, there’s Eurydice Dixon. And all the other women. I’m so angry and so tired. You know I used to walk at night alone a lot. And if it was dark, and a group of men were walking towards me in the opposite direction, I would always look them very clearly in the eye, and refuse to make way for them. This resulted in several near-collisions. There was always an assumption I’d get out of the way, but I never did. It sounds strange but those interactions filled me with a heady adrenaline. It was not excitement. I felt my insolent defiance deep in my bones and blood vessels, a pulsing threat. It should be ridiculous to feel this way about simply walking, but there it is.
In my teens and in my early 20s, I wore this attitude like a badge of honour on my chest. It was me trying to prove something— that I was infallible? That the statistical risk of being a woman did not apply to me? Eurydice wasn’t trying to prove anything. She was trying to get home.
p.s: Something posted by Kate Doak: how to quickly summon emergency buttons on your iPhone. I didn’t know about this.
I have no answers. Let me spend the rest of this note highlighting the work of good women.
LAUGHING AT INCEL
A few months ago at Word in Hand, Candy asked us to write a short poem about Incel. Mocking them, basically. I read this on McSweeney’s soon after and thought it was brilliant: The Incel Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. I grew up loving T.S. Eliot but he had it coming.
And while we’re here, from the New Yorker: If you ever hurt my daughter I swear to God I’ll let her navigate her own emotional growth
SOUND LADIES
Audiocraft conference was so great.
File this away in the ‘women I adore’ folder. Last two ladies to the right are Kate and Jess, the founders of Audiocraft. I’m so proud of them (and Jess OC, who programmed much of the day, and Andy Huang). In reference to Note No. 1 June 2018 — I went with the sequins. Chose the wrong bra and had my straps hangin’ out the there at back like ‘hey hey!’ the whole day but it was alright. Lotta sparkle. Photo: Toby Peet
So many sessions to follow up on— apparently up soon on the Audiocraft podcast. Some shows I added immediately to my listen list on the day were Wild Black Women on Let’s Talk and Caliphate (I know you might know about it— I’m behind on my listening!).
And FYI: An amazing database of women working as audio and sound engineers for your next film, music or podcast project.
EXCELLENT THINGS TO READ
New book by Vannessa Hearman on the anti-communist violence in Indonesia— a journey through the lives of people affected in a single province. I can’t wait to read this piece of historical storytelling, written after many years of research. Preorder for Aug 1!
Not a book but another great Highline longread by Huffington Post, by the writer of Dear Prudence. Exploring the sexual psychopathology of men held accountable by #Metoo. It explores this alongside the more common ‘they used their power’ analysis. It was the #Metoo read I’ve been wanting for a while.
COME TO MY WORKSHOP ON DEEP-DIVE INTERVIEWING
Not saying I’m a good woman like these other ladies, but I’m going to try to do good by you. Running a workshop at Writing NSW (they had a fancy relaunch, woo) and I’m refining and collecting everything I know about doing long, in-depth interviewing so you can steal it for your documentaries, podcasts and creative projects. It’s going to be on October 20 at the writers’ centre in Rozelle, Sydney. Tell your friends who love other people’s stories but are scared of close interview encounters. We’re going to work on it together. Sign up here.
[bctt tweet=”Get better at deep-dive interviewing with doco-maker and storyteller @belle_lopez at @writingNSW in October https://writingnsw.org.au/whats-on/courses/deep-dive-interviewing” via=”no”]
PROCESS P*RN
And the token guy in this note is Dave Eggers. I’m a bowerbird collector of quotes. This is one I love from him. And given everything lately, I’ve been clinging to it:
There are fears every day. Every book, every project is a risk. I think the crucial thing is to remember that we will soon be dust on a planet made of dust, floating in a universe utterly indifferent to us. So we can’t take our own fears too seriously. They are about as important as lint. The thing to take seriously is how we can lessen the fears of others. If life has meaning, and I believe it does, it emerges most clearly when we alleviate suffering in our fellow humans.
xxx pass this on to a mate. Tell em to sign up for notes from me.
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