Dandara

Dandara dos Palmares was a hero of the Afro-Brazilian liberation movement in the 1600s.

She was the last warrior queen of Palmares, one of the largest communities of quilombos (refugee villages for escaped slaves) of the time.

When Palmares was offered a treaty by the Brazilian state to ensure the safety, freedom, and recognition of Palmares's inhabitants in exchange for ceasing further liberation efforts, Dandara, along with her husband Zumbi, vehemently opposed the deal.

They would not be complicit in allowing the oppression to continue, though it meant continuing to resist attacks for more than 50 years.

With rising tensions leading to the eventual dismantling of the quilombo, Dandara chose to give her life rather than go back to slavery.

Though not much else is known of Dandara (like with so many women of color in history), her story has become legendary. 

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It's been 300 years since Dandara's death, and, though the world has changed dramatically since the 17th century, the struggle continues.

One thing I suspect hasn't changed is this: the first arena has to be within each and every one of us.

Addressing our own fear, guilt, ignorance, discomfort, confusion.

Noticing our deeply ingrained biases and the (subtle and not so subtle) ways they're acted out.

Seeing how these biases keep "us" separate from "them".

How they keep us from accessing real peace.




If anyone is struggling with anything related to this or just would like a little extra support, feel free to reach out. I'm no expert or saint but, as of the time of this writing, I'm fortunate to have a little extra strength to spare.


Be well.



Source: https://blackwomenofbrazil.co/dandara-the-wife-of-zumbi-brazils-greatest-black/

Sketch based on promotional artwork for Dandara, a fantasy indie game by Long Hat House loosely based on the historical figure, published by Raw Fury. Color invert using Pine Tools.

Open Sketchpad

Tears trickled down my face as I stared at the blank sketchpad on my desk.

Countless hours of my childhood were spent drawing, making flip-books, and writing picture books inspired by the characters of the video games worlds I inhabited.

Imagination was my happy place, but report cards were always more important than my sketches, creativity overlooked to favor intellect.

By adolescence, I learned to stop caring.

It was a necessary trade off. Security and material success were an unspoken priority in my humble immigrant family. Because of the sacrifices of my parents and those who came before, I'm able to live the privileged life I now lead, and for that I'm incredibly grateful.

But now it's up to me to reconnect with what was left behind.

I'd made many attempts; an art class here, creative writing class there, peeking into animation communities from time to time.

None of that stuck for long.

Sitting at my desk, staring at an empty piece of paper, I felt ridiculous, stupid, and hopeless. No inspiration, little training, no confidence. But that night I knew there was something calling me that couldn't be kept on hold anymore, and I stayed with it.

And then…

I remembered.

I needed to pick up where I left off.

I bolted into the living room and cracked open my copy of Journey, a beautiful, interactive metaphor of our passages through life.

And I sobbed.

Sitting there cross-legged on the carpet, game manual in hand, I was suddenly a kid again… only this time I felt really, truly seen.

The adult in me was there to hold witness to this quiet inner child eager to share his joy with whoever would listen.

Trembling with joy, it felt like I was finally home.

Staring back at me from the pages of this manual was the omen I needed to take the first step.

It was the call I needed to remind me of the stories that still need to be told.

And so that night I started.

And then I continued.

One day at a time. 

One stroke at a time.

(Sketches based on Matt Nava's original concept art for Journey, game by thatgamecompany.)