Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

We begin again, only this time with a new team. Held a grant-writing workshop that lasted for 5-days last May. It was a first of its kind where only writing each day was allowed. Five of us made an attempt to write. We did and ended up with a single page. Crossed the box of ideas generated off. Moved on with life. Watched the semester end. Children ended the school year too, yet somehow we begin again.

Mama had spine surgery early in May. In-home therapy began shortly thereafter. Then day therapy began at Chesterfiled. A big white bus came to the house to pick her up every day. From 8:30-3pm or 3:30 on longer days. So we watched the kids now home for the summer break. Watched them as summer program began at work. Twelve students signed up, all from four different institutions. Nine were left after the first week due to competing priorities. Nothing is ever as it seems. Yet we continue.

The students remaining sat through lectures from 9am-3pm everyday. We sat through some too. We began with understanding context and ended with fostering connections. The focus on creativity was the middle and my part to lead. All the lectures were new as creativity matters a lot these days to me. So we imagined, dreamed, radically hoped and then freedom dreamed some more, all for healing, all for those like us underrepresented. The thought of not using the gift for us weighed heavily. The idea of grants, writing a new one then crept and left but stayed. The deadline was June 18th. We were also planning a mega event and some field work outside the country. Lost a staff, hired a new one too but such is life. Everything and everyone is replaceable as Beyoncé’s song wafts in the air. We continue.

Nonetheless, last time we wrote was in May. Granted a supplement but it helped to free our mind up. All this was happening while also leading as a third PI on another grant in May. It wasn’t ours to lead and it was close to being done so we were thankful that they included us as a core team member. Few people do it these days, so our heart is grateful. Still our own idea stayed dormant while we worked on 10 RPPRs. A record and a reminder that what doesn’t kill you will certainly make you strong.

Then we met up with the one that reminded us of Angels and shared our rough idea. She told us what could or could not work in this place slowly becoming more than home to us, more like our soul too. She was traveling out of the country but would help once she returned. So we continued, at least as an idea but no concrete solution. Summer program was in full swing and the time for new ideas was limited. We began to visit parks with the kids, anything to get them outside the house. We visited Drace parks, the one close to our home. The playgrounds were new, and the kids have grown since the last summer we took pictures by the park entrance. A reminder to figure out how to hold on to these days. For nothing is ever as it seems. Yet we continue.

Then there was Memorial Day and all we did was eat and dance. Tshawala Bam became our goal as we learnt how to break the steps down. June was now near and in full force. The grant was due in 18 days. We still had no clue about what to do. So we spoke to more people, the one with a house for ambitious mothers like us. We spoke of the idea, debated what we could do and she inspired us to continue. Not after sharing the beaded jewelry we used to make and how all the ideas for it failed. She said we could try again. We half believed. Took some pictures of the jewelry and put it away. Somethings don’t continue, no matter how beautiful it may seem.

Summer program came to an end. Not before our daughter’s ice cream birthday with her friends. Ice-cream and movies. She was happy to host her friends in our home. Something she waited the whole school year to do. Then that Saturday morning, while glancing through the internet, we came across a needs assessment unlike any. The focus was not just on barriers as with many, but on strengths. The score too for strengths was 60%. We were impressed. We reached out to the author and asked if we could write a paper, a case study of this outstanding work. Everything we needed was there. She noted it was complicated. We said can we do own. She was thankful and asked what do need. We didn’t know but said maybe an opportunity to work with you. She said go for it. We noted we would get back once it all made sense.

It was making sense. Like a radial or the swirls we were moving towards the middle. We were finally seeing it all. The middle. The innermost core of a grant that stings like smoke, touching everything, returning us back to everything we know to be true and sure about this gift and curse. The smoke has seeped in now. We spent 2 days and wrote and wrote and wrote. Sleep evaded us. The middle was like air. Everything about it seemed radical and hopeful and baked in smoke and dreams. Our minds were transformed. We have something like grass that remains after a fire. Like the anthills of a Savannah. Only this air continued with eyes now wide open.

In two days this air we have been breathing, in and out, in and out, will be submitted. The path we took was different, daring, but different. We still took it our way like the sun that blazes each day despite the heat from before. The outcome and eventual process unknown. But looking back, it is clear that grant writing is a gift and curse. There is no perfect way to write any grant. Only the will to write. The core, the middle is always there and will all come together when you assemble the right people, learn and unlearn, but still learn from them, adapt, because all new ideas change as you seek to continue, then continue by keeping what matters, the idea, the team, the swirl, the chaos, the clarity, whatever helps you breathe in and out, in and out. Keep it all for it is all connected and the stars will emerge once you finally see. We are in a space where seeing is everything, continuing too with a plan like the sensation of traveling towards something, a tree, a forest, a river, air, anything that helps to clarify how begin. How our ideas emerge. How we reach the highest points of our lives. The point where we continue to dream to save us.