Linsa is a recent graduate of the University of Michigan, with BAs in Bio-psychology, Cognition, and Neuroscience, and English. She worked as a Diversity Peer Educator for the Residence Halls and is a founder and Core member of the Michigan Women of Color Collective, and is also involved in various other student organizations.
I wrote this poem at first for the symposium in Johannesburg, and I told everyone there that it really was a love letter to the city and everyone in it. And I knew, even before arriving in Durban, that my poem for the Durban symposium was going to be the same. So I kept the same structure and some of the same words, but I also added things to reflect better my entire experience in South Africa. Of course, this is only a small slice of what the POA trip has given me — I don’t know that I could ever truly capture everything in just one piece.
This trip has been really important for me. As someone who is recovering from depression, I can tell you that, in my experience at least, depression robs you of your personhood. I didn’t feel things anymore; I barely felt like a real person. It’s been a long and difficult process, to begin to regain my humanity again.
On this trip, to be surrounded by so much love and brilliance and warmth from everyone: from Nesha and my POA family, from the States to here in South Africa, those that I’ve know for a while now and for those I’ve just met, to the students and community members we’ve taught, to our drivers and security guards and housekeepers — really, every single person I’ve met here — has been absolutely amazing. I am so profoundly grateful and full of love for everyone I have met and interacted with on this trip, for helping me learn again what it means to be human.
I hope my words do justice to that.
Dear South Africa,
It is an honor to be here
in your presence and with
your people.
You have taught me so much
and thanks to you,
these are 10 things i know to be true
one.
Mr. Kathrada told us
“When we entered the struggle
We knew we were going to win —
one day”
“the enemy failed to crush
the spirit of the oppressed”
at Liliesleaf, loss sat heavy
on my chest
but he taught me
hope is essential
in the struggle
for survival, for freedom
and there is always
something just beyond the horizon
two.
Kailey and Sibongile taught me
you cannot give
what you do not have
if you have no love for yourself
where will you find love for others?
the words
we speak to ourselves and
let fall from our lips
must be full of love
because our words
can make bruises
in places nobody will see
leave us
swallowing spoonfuls
of self-hatred
and internalized isms
have us thinking
we’ll never be good enough
three.
self-love is not something to be achieved;
self-love is self-loving —
an action, a process, a journey.
it is a verb, not a noun.
love is our soul’s purpose, and
no matter what we think or
what others might tell us,
remember:
we are capable of love.
and we deserve love.
four:
we arrived in Josie
and I took half a breath of air
and the smell of burning leaves
and the red-brown dusty road
let lingering memories of my motherland
come forward
in Durban
I sat on the shoreline
with my feet dug deep in the sand
nearly swallowed by the sea
I let the sun warm my skin
and breathed
halfway across the globe
I am reminded
that amidst our differences
we are all greeted by the same morning sun and
we all stand under the same moon
five.
I looked out to the city skyline
from Craighall and Hillbrow all the way to Durban
and I saw stars
in the summer night sky
in the city-suburb lights that stretched
out instead of up
and in the spirits of the people
we are children of the stars
The universe is written in our DNA
Our souls are supernovas
exploding light and
Our bones burn
bright
like the aurora borealis
Our lungs
are made of ancient dust
There are constellations
in our fingerprints
Our hearts beats with
interstellar energy
We are nebulas and galaxies,
solar systems and
interplanetary collisions;
We are creations of time
and space
and
so
much
more.
six.
we contain multitudes.
Our tour guide Zongi
led us through Soweto
and later, we walked through Constitution Hill
like the cowhide that frames the justices’ space
in the highest court of the land
we are many, and different, and one
we must make space for each other
because of our differences
and not in spite of them
seven.
“isn’t that the definition of home?
Not where you are from
but where you are wanted?”
I read this in a book years ago,
and for the first time
I felt it.
(I’ve never met Auntie Fa
but she talks about POA as a family and
I feel her presence in almost everything we do)
In the minute between telling Vee my name
And climbing into the car
He shared his whole life story with us
welcomed us with open arms and an open heart
Mr. Ramlaul asked if I had family in South Africa
and when I said no, he
gestured to himself, Shavani,
and Charles Hugo primary school
He said “now you do.”
Mama Gugu called us all her children
Even those of us she had only just met
and talked about us as her American family
That she misses just as much as her own
I am humbled
and honored
and better
for having heard these words
I will keep them close
let them settle in my chest
nestled in that hollow space
just behind my spine.
eight.
Rangoato took us to his space
and told us about the Keleketla Library
we sang and danced for the kids at Charles Hugo
and they, for us
I am reminded of the power
of art that comes from the heart and soul
and that
you are brilliant.
you are resilient.
you are compassionate.
tender. unapologetic.
you are love.
you are light.
you are life.
nine.
give honor to the warrior women
who have walked this ground before us:
the movement shapers
the world shakers
the history makers
those who have
worked and wept
bled and built and
fought to create a world in which
we may live and express
the entirety of our beings
that we do not
have to sacrifice the
wholeness of our hearts
or souls to survive
ten.
send gratitude into the universe —
so I say
siyabonga, nkosi, ke a leboha,
thank you
