Welcome to the first of many “Mailman Diary” entries. As I begin to roll out this program and take anyone who is interested along with me behind-the-scenes, I felt it important that my first post be an introduction. If you know me, really know me, some of this information will not be new, although the particulars of my life are rather well-kept, so I’m sure a surprise or two awaits. If you do not know me, I invite you to try, if you feel so inclined.

I am now at the tail-end of my internship with the Museum of Contemporary Art in Denver, the weight of which I won’t be able to fully articulate until it is over and I have time to really marinate in all that it has given me. It has given me so much, most importantly it has re-introduced me to joy, to play, to curiosity, to my voice, and to purpose. (I’ll say I’m not confident I’ve ever had or been fully introduced to that last one, but more on that later). I’ll gush about my cohort, the friends I’ve made and am excited to keep, another time. For now, I want to talk about purpose, which cut through my grief (presently very large and very active) and reminded me of who I am, and therefore, why I have created this program. Why I feel possible in even doing so. This requires some background, so let’s begin.

My name is Najah Qamar, which is an Arabic name and one I wouldn’t trade for the world, despite lazy American mouths mispronouncing it often and egregiously. Najah is Arabic for “victory, success”. Qamar is Arabic for “Moon”. I am Ibeji and was born during Dia de los Muertos, along with my fraternal twin, and that shared journey is deeply complex, so I’ll spare you. But being a twin is a significant piece of who I am, half in fact. I have four more brothers between my parents separately, making me the only girl born to either of them.

My brothers and I (my Mother’s children) went to an all-black private school located in the the heart of Five Points, which shaped me immensely. I still have inseparable relationships, both to the people I attended with and to the buildings on the Welton Street corridor that housed black and brownness in a way I didn’t know was abnormal until I moved away from them. Drum circles and great food. Perfumes and butters and music and art. Art EVERYWHERE. My world was wrapped in black excellence, my locks were long and my neighbors looked out for me, as did my brothers. It was a holy experience, despite some of the hardships we faced.

My great-grandfather’s hands are some of my earliest memories. What he created with them was nothing short of brilliance. Byron “Mex” Johnson, born in Little Rock, Arkansas, was a shortstop in the Negro League, and “without educators like Byron, our nation’s young people would not have had desperately needed role models to mold their characters and challenge their intellects” President Bill Clinton. He was so many things to so many people, and I have no doubt husband and father would be at the top of his list. He was married to my great-grandmother, Christine Johnson, and the two knew each other since before second grade. They were my proof that true love was entirely real, because they had it in each other and didn’t leave each other’s side until my grandmother’s death some 70+ years later.

I could very honestly talk about my family all day. From my Aunt Carlotta Walls-Lanier, a member of the Little Rock Nine, who’s impact on desegregation is immeasurable, to my Mother, Dominique Christina, a writer, performer and social activist, winning several Nation Poetry titles, authoring four books, and acting on HBO and several on-stage productions. I come from mighty, mighty people, but I think you catch my drift so I won’t keep you. What you really need to know, the thing I find so interesting and inspiring, is that this iteration of myself, and thus this project, I See Who Sees Me, is only made possible by my matriarchal lineage.

Christine Johnson, my great-grandmother, cared about children, their education, and the cultivation of their gifts more than anyone I’ve ever met (in spirit; she died before I was born, but TRUST me when I tell you I have met her). She believed in black and brown kids “being in their gift” as my Mama would put it. She documented them religiously, and we have an abundance of photographs and documents dating back to the 30s because of this. She loved them so much, and made it her duty to bring them into their gifts, and she did it from Arkansas all the way to Denver, Colorado. Her daughter, my grandmother, Jaqueline Benton, was a teacher as well. As a professor of Africana Studies, she lead students on once-in-a-lifetime trips overseas to Africa, and down south to the lowcountry where they studied the Gullah Geechee. She passed this developing tradition of teaching down to my mother, and her father, Byron Mex, passed down a rich tradition of storytelling.

So, you see, this practice of youth empowerment, of teaching and facilitating and being in our gifts runs very deep. The first job I ever remember wanting was a teaching one, not because my matriarchs were teachers, but because my teachers (and matriarchs) made me feel possible. Capable of carving out a corner of this world where I fit, where I could Be Free. Where I could be gifted and black and expressed all the way through.

And now we have finally arrived at purpose, which is rather simple when it’s all boiled down. I’m going to continue this tradition. That’s it. That is (part of) my purpose. This practice of love and art and community that was passed down to me, that I have been, in some form or another, out of touch with since girlhood, is what I am here to do now. I feel like I am in conversation with my Gran (Christine) whenever I spend time on this work, and that tells me I am onto something that I can leave with this place, after I am gone. Something worthwhile. And I truly would not have come to this knowing in this way without my internship. Without my mentors and my cohort, who see me and push me to be in my gifts. Who brought back my joy, enough for me to wipe the blood from my eyes and see clearly who I am on my way to being.

Thank you so much for reading. I don’t think enough of us talk about our family and the corners of the world they made better (those of us with that information, that is). So much of me is my lineage, and so much of me comes from this city of mine. This city I love so much, immensely and eternally. I love you, Denver.

Love,

Najah Qamar

It is a wonderful thing to realize your purpose. I will be 25 this year, and it took ideating about this program to even be in touch with purpose, let alone a plan. I have many skills and many ideas. This one is my truest calling. I’m excited for the failures and the success, both of which are inevitable.

Socials and sites to keep up with below!

INSTAGRAM

• I See Who Sees Me (@iseewhoseesme)

• Najah Qamar (@studioqam)

WEBSITE

• Najah Qamar Portfolio - theyearsthatask.wordpress.com

• Najah Qamar Store - najahqamar.bigcartel.com

FACEBOOK

• Studio Qamar