Intergenerational Mutual Appreciation
Recently, Izzi and I were invited to participate in a shoot with photographer Ajamu X. We have been visiting Ajamu’s studio for almost a year now, participating in a weekly boxing session for Black queers and was the first to host a workshop with Home Studio.
Witnessing each other's strengths and weaknesses, a sense of belonging brewed in the heart of Brixton. Ajamu has effortlessly become a mentor, a sound board for ideas, a collaborator and an inspiration.
Every Monday, he greets us at the door with a smile and a "How are you doing, lovely?" starting our weekly challenge with positivity. Even through text or email, he insists on checking in on how we are doing personally before getting down to business. This level of care permeates throughout his way of working, and as we began our photography session, I continued to feel his warmth.
As I partially undressed, I began to realize how comfortable I felt in my body. Living in London has changed me in ways that Florida could not have prepared me for, with its slow pace and constant heat. Here, my shoulders are usually coldly tense, preparing for any potential disappointment like missing a bus, sudden rain, or a canceled meet-up with a friend. Too often my heart is usually heavy with nostalgia and grief, mourning versions of myself that I’ve had to let go of and those who have let go of me. But here it is different.
“You know the feeling when you take your socks off at the end of the day, rubbing the indents they left on your skin? The relief your toes feel in the new context of freedom. This is how it felt to be half-nude in his studio. This appreciation for exposure carried us, in the soft light just above the black box we struck our poses in. What was there to be shy about? What is bashful about liberation? What can shame do to esteem, praise even?”
I believe that this is the work of kink. It takes pleasure in the non-conventional, sometimes hidden, sometimes averted. My pleasure was found in the feeling of being seen as whole. Ajamu knows my intellectual interest, my aesthetics, my power, and my insecurities. Now he is getting to know my body, my intimacy, with the same interest and care as every other characteristic. He was always listening, checking in, making corrections, pushing us into beautifully awkward shapes as well as capturing the natural tenderness between my spouse and me.
The day before, my mother sent me two articles on the health risks associated with lesbian sex and male-to-female transitioning. The day before that, she sent me a homophobic sermon via YouTube. In response, I sent her a queer-friendly sermon by a pastor in Harlem who spoke on church trauma and loving all people as they are. She then sent me a conspiracy piece about the NY pastor in which she claims that he doesn’t believe Jesus is God and therefore is uncredible. There were no words between the messages. Just links, no listening.
I told this to Ajamu after our shoot, as he is familiar with my mother's and my estrangement. We talk about how these formative relationships have such a profound impact on how we view ourselves, forgetting to appreciate the parts of us that have been disapproved of. He reminds me that we cannot afford to live in fear and shame. It is better to accept and keep going rather than praying for something ideal when it has never existed.
While lying on my back, curling and stretching my toes on my partner's chest and in her hands, I feel love for the pieces of me that have been demonized. I see my sexuality as a source of power that I have the agency to wield when I please. The camera clicks, and I am certain that this moment will live on forever.
