In recent weeks I have had to remind myself to write about joy.
Sometimes I go deep into writing about heavy subjects and I tap into that place within me that holds all the anger and frustration toward a world not yet loving. Which makes for work that solidifies what I want to accomplish with my writing, with my voice.
But some of what we should provide in speaking out is joy and revelry, excitement and anticipation for our continuation. We should insist on all of this.
One of my assignments for a class is to write a short piece with a famous person. I was mad about the assignment. Maybe I still am. But I’m trying to remember joy today and when I think of joy I go to music as my first avenue into that assurance.
And I think of La Lupe almost immediately. Popular in the 1960s and 70s, La Lupe was a Cuban wonder. She faced multiple tragedies, lost her livelihood in Cuba, landed in Mexico then made her way to New York to play with Mongo Santamaria and Tito Puente before being ousted for her wild behavior. When she sang it was a performance and her behavior wasn’t considered womanly enough at the time. Consider Celia Cruz, who came out at the same time, for a comparison of just how different she was. Celia was a gentlewoman and classy. Her performance was professional. She was curated in a sense, like Motown artists. Conversely, La Lupe would scream out from the emotion that charged through her, like a tree hit by lightning. She stomped her feet, pulled at her clothes, threw her jewelry or shoes into the audience.
I think of La Lupe because I face most writing prompts and have to go beneath it to see the rest of its skeleton. On the surface is the prompt itself. I can respond fairly well but beneath it are the complicated layers of where the question comes from, the origin of the voice reciting that prompt, the way I interpret the prompt and the voice, and the environment under which I receive it.
I have taught myself to do this excavating because it benefits my work and my spirit. But joy and all the good things should be considered just as deeply. La Lupe was a physical performer. She shook everything from within her self to let loose the pain and struggle. Freedom is a messy road. By making that road she was able to find the incredible joy of singing and performing and connecting. She did it her own way and was beloved - if not by everyone then for sure by those who most needed to hear her.