I won’t bury the lead. So here’s the news:

I’m going to slow down the frequency of these written posts.

Part of this is for my own sanity. A lot is going on between releasing one documentary, developing Concrete River, and life in general. But this is also an intentional choice. I want more time to explore more thoughts, provide room for more research, and create room for refinement.

This is also a fight against the crushing forces of American capitalism that have prioritized something counterintuitive to art that has meaning.

CONTENT AT SPEED AND SCALE

One of the many culture shocks for those from outside the United States involves introductions. At gatherings, after saying your name, you’ll often get this question:

What do you do?

Our personhood is defined by our profession. The goal is to pick a profession and climb as fast as possible to achieve as much money and status in order to justify our existence.

This has bled into creative pursuits. There is no room for creative exploration without thinking of this phrase:

How do I monetize it?

So we’re encouraged to create more, better, and faster so we can get that sweet, undefined prize that will make it all worthwhile. We try to produce more, both in frequency and scale. Go bigger and faster in hopes of “success.”

This is antithetical to not only creativity but human existence.

We are conditioned to create “content” – more pieces at the highest frequency. But we are missing the most important piece:

Why?

Forgetting why keeps us on the hamster wheel. It doesn’t make us answer this follow-up question:

Am I using this platform, or is it using me?

SLOWNESS AS REBELLION

The United States uses race and class to engage in warfare against its own population. It is speeding us up and distracting us for this outcome:

To have us think in days, rather than decades.

Productivity is the buzzword of the moment because it acts against our best interests. If we can only focus on the next day, then we can’t build momentum. And if we can’t build momentum:

Then we will always be under the control of someone else.

If we stop running the same race as everyone else, we are seen as outliers.

Which has its own magnetic energy.

THE RENEWED FOCUS

What this all means for me is this:

I will be posting both written articles and audio podcasts on a bi-weekly basis.

This will not only allow me more time to explore the concepts I write about in more detail but provide room for researching and gathering sources to ensure what I’m saying is accurate and not just a feeling.

The podcast will still be an extension of the articles (mostly) where I expand on the written idea. Because, like all research, there are elements you end up leaving out for brevity’s sake.

So expect the articles to be longer, have more links, and go further in-depth. This is part of a personal quest of mine to bring more intentionality to posting on platforms like Substack.

Make no mistake, platforms like this one can be incredible tools if used correctly. That use is up to the individual and the intention. But that intention has to be one of impact. And in my case, that impact is to provide room for more thought.

People of color like myself are in a situation where we, outside of a select few, are fighting against being erased. Our stories are being put to the side and, in some cases, removed entirely. With a large backlash that is trying to keep it alive.

For filmmakers, our new goal is clear:

To become archivists of our stories and our culture.

Like our ancestors, we are the holders of stories that define our culture and our way of being. Filmmaking is simply this:

An extension of the ancient, oral tradition that has kept oppressed peoples alive.

This is our duty. It goes beyond the imaginary boundaries of race, class, and nation. It is the reason for the Blended Future Project coming into being and will be part of what I will explore in my next written piece.

So look for that written post the following week. I am calling on all of us to slow down and embrace more intentionality. Not just for the survival of our chosen art form of filmmaking.

But as an act of silent insurrection.