The Brooklyn Rail

MAY 2021

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MAY 2021 Issue
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I Hate Zoom

Shedding last March 2020 to reveal the future that’s always unfolding.

On this most recent full moon in Virgo. Candles lit. Relaxing in a steamy bath drawn with Florida water, flowers, and herbs. Crystals placed purposely. The colossal weight of the fears of a repeat. The sounds of a rapidly beating heart. A loss of air, troubled breathing. The choking feeling of this current existence. Is it COVID? A seasonal cold? Too many bong rips? Anxiety … again? The pandemic panic was setting in again. A new set of emotions not fully realized.

Still reeling from the sick unnerving knowledge that the American government refused to take responsibility or properly care for its people in a remotely merciful fashion. Sacrificing lives to push a volitive market of capital gains, a lottery of resources and money. 

This year was a time to reflect on what gives me gender euphoria. Womanhood is a precious art. It is performed and learned, but most importantly expressed from within. Getting right with my intuition and servicing the needs of my body directly. This is a radical act. As a Black woman, my seeking medical care and wellness and relaxation as I deem fit is a radical act. My preservation of myself is to preserve culture and knowledge.

A typical day consists of waking up super early in the morning or super late at night. Breakfast: a large cup of hot water or cold water and some existential dread as a side. Possibly a full breakfast depends on what flavor the dread is. Then I take one hour to give thanks for everything that I am given. I work out by twerking while I write or produce, or standing up at my desk.

I have ADHD, so in order for me to sit and focus I have to do a system of odd but necessary and specific things beforehand. Work out. Drink more water. Tell myself I’m cute. Post to my Instagram story. Crawl back in bed if the world has been too cruel for the day. Tell the people I’m friends with that I love them. Go on a walk. Do yoga. Take a morning and evening bath. When in doubt: do your skincare routine. Write songs. Sing warm-ups into the mic. Sing in the shower. Roll around on the floor with my hands covering my face, screaming. The little things.

The most resilient thing I’ve done this time is to become more aware of myself and my needs. Those needs differ because of the trauma, physical and mental, from which I am healing. 

A hard focus on the spiritual woman inside of me and how I can become more of her and show more of who she already is. Reading through spiritual literature written by Black women on femininity, womanhood, and what women do. I was raised by women who had to work and provide for so many people. Never using their own time, energy, and money for their physical wellness. To break family curses, I am choosing to heal myself first.

Looking most forward to getting back into live performances. During quarantine working on my first full studio album release. I am also hoping to never have to use Zoom. I hope the need for a video will inspire a new form of video telecommunication so that I can never use it again. I hate Zoom. To me, it’s very bleak and dark, as I have previously used it as a trans sex worker. I know a lot of unsavory things that happened on this platform so a lot of the time when I am using this platform for work I am triggered by the memories of what I know is possible on it.


Zarina C

Zarina C, aka Edge Slayer, is an intergalactic demoness, turned goddess. a siren of sultry vibes, and a New Orleans, LA based performance artist. She is a music producer, singer, and video production artist.


The Brooklyn Rail

MAY 2021

All Issues