gou thum

Womanthology & return of Goudou-Goudou

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Haiti doesn’t let people turn into ever-cranking machines.

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My babies are my 40 students. I have no babies and lots of babies.

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The Mambos sway, dance, tremble, ready to be mounted by a Mystery.

When joy rises out of relentless muck, it is a joy like no other.

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Whose rubble is it, anyway? Whose tragedy, whose problem?

gm

What happens when you push an all-girl film crew?

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The smeared lurching bodies of charcoal men are not easy to approach.

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The girls have been through hell, and their yearning for joy is too intense.

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My students are learning how to wait, watch, and grab reality as it unfolds.