Journalistic Poetry.
Alex - Water Element
You tell me it started with the BBC
Spilled over from Hong Kong like a hot cup of tea
The British influence gave Macao channel 1, channel 2 and 3
Broadcasting a confusing image of who you were supposed to be
The airtime then went mostly to pretty stars like David Beckham
You knew you could never reach his level even if you’d met him
They could spill from the pot and call the kettle black, blue, or yellow
But you couldn’t just spill back into white, ho there fellow
You started to understand the terms for being white
Was nothing short of the gore and glamour of a birthright
The seaside town of Macao comes from the Chinese
Goddess of the sea, A-Má, protector of sailors
And I imagine a friendly spirit traveling with you to the Netherlands
Like Karma that comes back around
Like water rising from the sea to the sky and raining back down from clouds
She gifts you the superpower of fluidity
Those who journey need to feel at home among different nationalities
Knowing that no matter how opposite things may seem
They exist because they function as a team
So when contrary forces arise you can easily let it go
Knowing it evens out in the grand balance of flow
You tell me about your brother’s guitar
It aided him in studying classical music
And it showed you who you are
You say education in Asia is uniform
Another brick in the wall
It made you lean into your individuality and want to
Break out from high rise buildings and barriered balconies
You tell me an inner conflict arose
‘Should I stay or should I go’
Using music to calm the storm
You strummed your way through jazz, rock, and neo-soul
Sound waves that carried you all the way across the blue
End of discussion, next chapter, I’m new
‘To end conflict’ has the Chinese character ‘Mu’
And the word for art denotes skill and expression of beauty
’To end conflict skilfully’ is the closest interpretation of the martial arts
And I think about how that includes many parts of what you do with music
Like ocean waves smooth themselves onto the shore
Your fingers soothe guitar strings into harmonious chords
When you surf on melody and let that friendly spirit sing
You are more than a rider on the storm
You are the musical Shaolin
“Like ocean waves smooth
themselves onto the shore
your fingers soothe guitar strings
into harmonious chords
when you surf on melody and
let that friendly spirit sing
you are more than
a rider on the storm
you are the musical Shaolin”
I ask you what you think about the term people of colour
You imagine for a moment then give me an analogy
Saying you think the term is a strategy:
Imagine, “White is like the paper, it is always white
And if you put something, it’s colour, white is not the colour”
It strikes me that if white is the paper then all that’s left for everyone else to be
Is a mark, something dark, with coded colours for the game
Colours with labels that link to shame and so keep a majority tame
You recall a memory from your teens
Where you would pinch your nose daily
In the hopes of it getting sharper, whiter, unstained
Meanwhile, in South Africa, I recall doing the same
And it strikes me how whiteness is not a group of humans
It is an idea, that thrives on an international inferiority complex
Instilled by generations of fear
As you talk I notice your bright tattoos
How the markings here tell your story
And the canvas is you
You tell me skin colour is uninteresting
How you treat people is more worthwhile
It’s a delicate matter but a question of style
And I notice how the printed patterns of your clothes
Clash with your inked sleeves like wild waves
You tell me when you came to Amsterdam you felt embraced for being different
You could drop the fantasy of wanting to be white
And settle into feeling alright, comfortable with your being
Standing out for exactly the thing you once hated was freeing
You mention it’s important to keep an open mind
Even when white paper comes to discriminate
Try a warm smile and watch tensions evaporate
You tell me your mother tongue is Cantonese
And you explain about the economy of the language
You tell me you can have one word with with four meanings
Pronounced as different inflections
Ice, liquid, vapour - three forms, one substance
If language shapes culture and mentality, it stands to show
An Eastern capacity for space and a tendency towards flow
This brings ease, an instant way for giving
I learn that what may seem like compliance is actually grace
On account of space for multiple views at various points
Like warm water’s magic to loosen stiff joints
You explain that if you have to think in black and white
You approach it like yin and yang
Each giving rise to the other, not separate from one another
Whatever the colour, you hold your brother
It gets me thinking about the human challenge
Of surrendering to naturally imperfect balance
You suggest we both write ‘Amsterdam’ in our native script
And the accented boxes of Cantonese looks like tiny houses
Next to the cursive writing, I learned as a kid, they form a motley group
Different styles from across the globe, and still, one hood
Like the sea swells to accommodate energy for a tidal wave
I see an imminent collective cresting
The beginnings of movements can often look like resting
But that’s when we grow, and if you don’t know - now you know
That as well as a resounding vibration
Black has also always been flow
Alexandre Tam is an independent guitarist, works from the Treehouse community, and is of Chinese ethnicity
“You explain that if you have to think in black and white
You approach it like yin and yang, each giving rise to the other
not separate from one another
Whatever the colour, you hold your brother”
Xx
