If I Get There Home Will Happen

 

By Ivoire Foreman

 

 

Where is home?

 

When I think of home I think of my mother and strength.
My mother is that type of person who identifies as a woman and is butch

                                                                                                                                                     as

                                                                                                                                                     Butch.

When women and other people with uteruses are menstruating more testosterone is in their system.

My mother is like THAT all the time;
Big and Strong.

                                                  Solid.

a Momma and a Poppa,

Resilient strength!

My mother is the woman that everyone thinks is a lesbian.

                                                                                                                                    I

                                                                                                                  know

                                                                                              because

                                                                              they

                                                            asked

                                              me.

 

My mother wanted a goddess.

Spelled phonetically.

With an accent.

So she named me Atheiyna, but changed her mind and called me Ivoire.

pronounced Ivory, just spelled French.

Strength and Anonymity.

When I think of home I think of my mother and a lack of a home.

She has yet to own a home.

At 15 I told her I was a lesbian and her rejection charged our rented house.

I ran away at 17 --

my flight powered by the strength she instilled and the hurt that settled.

Peeled my heart from my sleeve, I began housing it in an ever-changing array of bags.

Rejecting home because it was broken and projecting me into;

Nomadic by nature and my everything is Trans.

 

I have never felt the presence of God,

or truly felt at home.

 

Instead, I feel infinite possibility migrating                          forward.

Home.


I carry it with me.

 

If I get there

home

will

happen.

When I think of home I think of my mother and unconditional compassion and anticipation.

The children are all grown now and my mother finally has the urge to leave.

She lives in a place with a series of roommates.

Saving and preparing for when she'll put her laptop in her car and write her way across the USA.

It took 20 years and seven cities and my mother is now able to embrace who I am.

My mother, my first home.

 

I am utterly convinced that humans’ preoccupation with race, class, gender, and sex are retarding us a species.

Stunted and bound to this planet.
Home.

Home is where the
Heart is where  
The bag is

Freedom.

About The Artist

 

Ivoire is a queer artist of color stomping under the trans umbrella.

 

A builder, sculptor, manipulator of mediums. Re-appropriating re-appropriation, developing Validation through Visibility, while creating art that is contemporary to them and the many communities they move within.

 

These drawings are Ivoire's investigation of family, movement, a wanderers lens, a visual start to articulating home, space, legacy and all the bags we carry our elements in.

 

View more of Ivoire's work at www.ivoireforemanart.com.