Ebo Barton
An Open Letter to Tevin Campbell from the Queer Future, or “Tomorrow (A Better You, Better Me)”
A diplodecade before you spun our cross-coloured overalls
Round and round
Before Ashley Banks ever had a birthday
Free Love was a disco ball
Sexuality was spread thin across our sweaty skin
Everyone kissing everyone on the dance floor
And in 2021, Can We Talk for a Minute shows up
on an oldies playlist–your voice
serenading an awkward inner tween inside of me
And I tell my friend between nostalgic blushing
and recalling a 7th grade daydream
that the 1970s could have held you better
Could’ve hustled a haze over you
Nestled you safe between the glitter and the polyester
How dare I cherish secret like safety
Like I’m not out loud and proud every day
Like I don’t decorate myself in the culture
Twist my tongue around the language
Like I have a right to build an imaginary closet around you
In 1991, we cared way too much
about who your voice could’ve been for
And less about how breathtaking your voice was
So we demanded an answer that you did not even have yet
A language we, nor you could even speak
I don’t know what they want you to do, Tevin
I’ve been living in the Queer Future
Here we only dream of where
We don’t still question and demand impossible evidence
From women and children
And allow whom they have accused
to continue singing along
To our most precious moments
Like we can compromise our values
For an album
For a tv show
But only when they are straight men
Only when their sexualities
Force themselves
Into our parties
They re-bend their names to spell classic
Fit easy in our mouths
Like buffet plate
But we been ready to drink holy water
in the fires of hell
That Lil Nas X found a home in
Because we’ve been told that’s where we’ll end up
So many times
In the Queer Future, we could love you.
We have no titles
Only beautiful bodies
We bathe ourselves gorgeous
Take turns licking the shame
off each other’s backs–we suck glorious
from each other’s bottom lips–celebrate the sex we have
and the sexy we are
We kiss each other softly
under moonlights
Frank oceaning our way to joy
We dirty computer talk
and Kehlani said
you should be here, Tevin.
But I’ll never forget that it was you
you that told us question mark babies
That we could anywhere that we want
Any road that we decide to take.
All that we needed was our precious dreams
And we did
So now
We dance, We grind out loud, We speak
We sing
We live
And it is not perfect, but
but Tevin, maybe I am the fool they call me
to believe sometime in this Queer Future that
we are ready
to love you
forever
Ebo Barton comes from salt— from the moment before worlds converge. In this world, we are still trying to articulate that mixed Black and Filipino, Transgender and Non-Binary, Queer, Artists and Educators not only matter but are precious. In another world, Barton is loved, safe, and valued. The only difference being that the latter is a path they must make themselves. You may have seen Ebo’s work in Natasha Marin’s Black Imagination and heard in the audiobook read by Grammy and Tony award winner, Daveed Diggs. You have also seen Ebo’s work online on Write About Now, Button Poetry, and All Def Poetry channels. In 2016, they placed 5th in the World at Individual World Poetry Slam. In 2017, they co-wrote and co-produced the award-winning play, “Rising Up”. In 2018, they played “Invisible One” in Anastacia Renee’s “Queer. Mama. Crossroads” and reprised the role in 2019. Ebo debuted his first published collection of poetry, Insubordinate in 2020. In 2021, Insubordinate was named a Washington State Book Award Finalist in the Poetry Category and Black Imagination was named a Washington State Award Finalist in the Creative Non-Fiction Category. A leader in arts and activism, Ebo Barton is committed to creating opportunities for others to organize, heal and rejoice. From curated shows like Alchemy Poetry with Ben Yisrael to educating across the country at various institutions, 2020 Jack Straw Writing Fellow, Ebo Barton’s written, performative, and community work demand societal reckoning.