Curating Teen Voices: Coming of Age
A portfolio project led by Mariana Parisca, Story Stitchers Artist in Residence
March 2-25, 2017
Spoken Word March 25 4 PM
7513 Forsyth Blvd., Clayton MO 63105
Curating Teen Voices: Coming of Age is a time capsule of teenage voices combined with adult artists living in St. Louis in 2015, all reacting to a critical and unique time in the history of race relations, gun violence, police roles and community relationships in the city of St. Louis, Missouri. Financial assistance for this project has been provided by the Missouri Arts Council, a state agency. This project is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.
Coming of Age – Revolving
By Antigone
Grade 6
c Saint Louis Story Stitchers, 2015
Everything revolves in an open door
People come and go
You grow
Toys get old
Nothing is the same ever
You have to constantly fight to fit in
To hold your place in the general murmur
Pretend to be the same
Suppress your individuality
And
Blend into the background
Don’t stand out too much
Know your place
Stay there
It’s the same in society
Bow your head
If you can help it
Don’t talk at all
Blend in
Don’t get noticed
A rule that is consistently hard
Your friends talk about retaliation
It amounts to nothing
The school you attend exposes you
But only exposes to the vague idea
Their side
You know that there is more feeling
But there is no evidence
Only the pictures could be anyone’s
You sink into the background again
You sink into the music your passion
You sink to acting
You sink back to invisibility
Pretend you know nothing
You have to dance the way you want to when no ones watching
And even then they catch you
Tell you to stop
The things and people you love disintegrate
And your world is held together by threads
You can’t sing cause they laugh
Scared cause they know that this
Glimmer of joy
Is just that
A glimmer
You dance cause you’re supposed to do
Your laugh rings high
And
Suspiciously false
Gradually things lull back into a blur
Get up
Get ready
Go to school
Come home
Do chores and leisurely activities
But there’s always something in the back of your mind
That is sore
Something aching
Aching to learn create dance to remember
But you can’t
Every movement is extreme pressure
Extreme pain
Extreme agony
You are filled with if onlys
If only they would let us see
If only you remembered to do this or that
If only they trusted us
If only they let us out there
If only they would listen
The door still revolves
