Today we’d like to introduce you to Kelsey Blackwell.
Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
We all want to belong. We all want to feel seen and valued for who we really are. Though this is one of the features of our human condition, we live in a society that rejects difference and creates predetermined hierarchical boxes we’re expected to conform to. We’re shown that “worth” requires we find our place and thrive in this structure. My formative years were spent surrounded by whiteness. I was born in Huntington Beach but moved to Utah shortly after. I grew up in a white community — a small suburb outside of Salt Lake City. My father is Black and my mother is white, and to my peers I was “different.” My family also isn’t Mormon, a faith which centers family gatherings and community activity far beyond the Sunday service. I internalized my inability to fit in as something faulty within myself. I learned how to perform what I was “supposed to be” — cheerful, friendly, smart, athletic. I didn’t realize how disconnected from my body I was until I tried meditation. In my twenties, a friend introduced me to the practice of Shamatha meditation. In that first 5-minute session and many sessions after, I was flooded with anxiety. I couldn’t place why or from what, and I got curious. I started to see how my anxiety had been with me for a looong time and, like a canary in a coal mine, indicated when something was “off.” I started listening to my body.
This pivotal experience led me to the study of somatics, learning more about the wisdom of my body, particularly abolitionist somatics, Pleasure Activism and InterPlay. The more I dropped below my head and followed my body, the more myself I felt. I learned how to not put my internalized oppression in the driver’s seat and gradually began to feel more equipped to make bolder decisions in my work and life. Since learning how to trust my body’s wisdom, I left my corporate job, started dancing every day, moved to The Bay Area — a place I always wanted to live, co-founded a meditation community in Oakland, co-launched a somatics series for artists and activists, published a viral article on the need for BIPoC only spaces, began teaching somatics in corporate and nonprofit spaces to BIPoC audiences, and started coaching womxn of color to connect to their body’s own liberatory wisdom and launched, Decolonizing the Body a 7-week program for womxn of color.
I’m sure you wouldn’t say it’s been obstacle free, but so far would you say the journey has been a fairly smooth road?
It has not been a smooth road. With each step that my body has called me toward, I’ve encountered an old familiar voice — a voice I’ve named the inner overseer. This voice was forged in the cauldrons of white supremacy, capitalism, and the patriarchy. Its job is to keep me in service to these cogs of oppression. It says, keep your head down and keep picking. With every dream, with every possibility, I’ve been met with an equal force encouraging just the opposite. This voice says, “Do not cross go. Crossing go means imminent doom. You will fail. You will look bad. Others will feel sorry for you. They’ll be glad it wasn’t them. You’ll be alone.” This voice tries to talk me out of that thing. “It’s not really that important. Wait until you know more. Let’s see what happens. No one is really going to get you. You’ll be the worst one there. Everyone will wonder why you even came. That doesn’t really sound smart.” We often don’t talk about our inner doubt because we’re ashamed. Yet, I’ve found the best way to poke holes in this narrative is to speak about it — bring it into the daylight.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I used to identify as a reluctant creative. I wished I could feel satisfied with a more practical profession. Why couldn’t I be exhilarated by numbers and spreadsheets? Isn’t there some way to make writing code alluring? The truth is, it’s words and movement that move me. I’m proud to now claim myself as a creative and an entrepreneur. Enough with trying to shoehorn myself into another reality. Part of this shoehorning has been out of fear. To make it as a writer or a dancer seemed impractical. I took the middle road and worked as a magazine editor for a food magazine. Stable-ish job. I got to write. Bingo! Except, I wasn’t happy in a 9-to-5 schedule. I wasn’t happy editing others’ words. I wanted to see my work on the page. I wanted to be creating. It was a relief to finally turn toward and own that. It’s not just writing or dancing, my being is meant to create in many ways. One of the things I’m particularly proud of is co-creating a meditation community in Oakland’s Temescal neighborhood. With a band of awesome volunteers, we fostered a space rooted in inclusivity, creative expression, and horizontal leadership. Anyone could volunteer. Anyone could lead a discussion or exercise. The diversity of offerings and the camaraderie developed between regulars was inspiring. Our gathering has since disbanded, but many of the people are still friends and one couple even met there and are now married. So, that’s cool.
Another thing I created was simply an offering from the heart born from frustration when I was launching a BIPoC meditation space. I received so many questions about why BIPoC needed their own spaces that I wrote, “Why People of Color Need Spaces Without White People.” The article went viral. I was invited to be a guest on radio shows and podcasts. I’ve received countless letters of appreciation from BIPoC folks and also white folks who now get it. I wrote this article as a service to BIPoC people so that we could just link to it rather than try to explain everything every time. Right now, what I’m most excited about is the community of womxn that are coming together for the Decolonizing the Body program I’ve created. We have participants from LA to England. It feels like an offering that weaves it all together — unpacking what it means to be racialized in our society, somatic practices, supporting our own deep knowing with the words of other politicized creatives, space for creative expression, connection and dance. My heart sings in this space. I offer this program twice a year and dream of making it an in-person gathering when that is possible.
What has been the most important lesson you’ve learned along your journey?
We are never alone. The meritocracy would like us to believe otherwise. We see the big hill and we believe we’ll be tackling it alone. We feel daunted. We feel overwhelmed. It is never this way. Our ancestors are with us, our interconnectivity is with us, spirit is with us. Before when I was overwhelmed, I’d make a to-do list. Now, I light a candle and call on my people. They always show up. A lot of my work now is being in deep practice about what it means to lean back.
Contact Info:
- Email: [email protected]
- Website: kelseyblackwell.com
- Instagram: @decolonizingthebody
Image Credits:
Photos by Bernard Henry Manning and Rachelle Derrouin
