a dream deferred?

What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up
      like a raisin in the sun?
      Or fester like a sore—
      And then run?
      Does it stink like rotten meat?
      Or crust and sugar over—
      like a syrupy sweet?

      Maybe it just sags
      like a heavy load.

      Or does it explode?

—   Langston Hughes

hi! i hope this longread finds you well. have you ever heard of a dream deferred? the saying or maybe the poem? Harlem (also known as a dream deferred) is the title of the poem above. it’s about how not achieving your dreams leads to profound unhappiness. please notice how this is described with several transitional phases, each of which doesn’t happen immediately but happens nonetheless!! this means that you won’t directly notice how unhappy giving up on your dreams can make you, but you’ll feel it eventually. *poetic finger snaps for Langston, please!* on a serious note, this poem has been on my mind for months.

some context

in 2022 i started dreaming of a poetic project, named (out)growing pains. a performance piece, to be specific. i had been in a writer’s block since 2021 and the point was to get myself out of it and work on new poems by 2023. which i did. to be honest, i think my writer’s block stemmed from the realisation that i’ve been writing on healing and the desire for it for years. when would this healing actually come? how come i’m still going through the same stuff? my body physically started to reject the idea of writing by numbing my hand every time i tried to write a poem. so, in order for me to write again, i had to get to know myself as a writer again. i had to let go of the writer i used to be and welcome the one i am now. the new writer with new triggers strong enough to fight that numbness.

through (out)growing pains i found joy again in the message i was destined to spread. the piece is about how to consider healing when you try to heal from pain of your own, pain that is not yours and pain you do not know the origin of. about a wound that is ours. but not for long. because all things pass if you keep on breathing. 

before i knew it, i had secured a try-out moment for this piece in 2023, and negotiations with theater programmers for its 2024 premiere had begun. 

try-out of (out)growing pains, 2023 ©Victoriano Moreno

Sesa’s dream deferred

like for any project, i kept in mind that there would be setbacks. unfortunately, there were many. many many many. in six months i've dealt with a dozen rejections, people suddenly not understanding the project, people saying it was too soon and others saying it was too elaborate. people telling me in my face how great the project was to then make sure–behind my back–i wouldn't receive funding for it. people telling me Belgium is not ready for a project like this but at the same time getting rejected overseas. i've been discretely told that this piece wasn’t working out because it doesn’t focus on black pain but rather on the healing of it. “people need to feel bad for you and feel like they can save you. you can’t tell them you will save yourself.”

what really took a toll on me was getting rejected for funding. twice. i felt so guilty for having involved people in this. artists, producers, stylists, photographers, choreographers, etc. it was as if i promised them something that eventually did not come. all this time invested, and nothing working out. i felt guilty and embarrassed. 

though this all is part of the process by June of this year, i was drained and pained. i kept telling myself that if so many people rejected it, there must've been something wrong with the project. maybe the project simply sucks? but then i looked at the creation itself and was genuinely confused because it’s one of the best things i've ever created–even if i do say so myself. definitely a work in progress but so worthy of a chance.  

small note: i’m grateful for all the involved people who kept on believing when i did not. who kept on seeing the vision when things for me were blurry. until this day, they still do. you know who you are! thank you!

so, what happens to this dream deferred?

“so, what now? just like that, she is giving up?” the answer is “i want to but i can’t.” one thing about dreams, if it’s a purpose based one, it’ll gnaw at you! you can try to ignore it, run away from it, dead it…. it’ll gnaw at you! stalk you. find its way back into your mind and remind you. slip through the cracks of your heart and remind you. itch to the point where picking the dream back up is the only way to scratch. so, as much as i'd like to give it up, i simply can’t. for now i’m taking a break. all things pass if you keep on breathing right? and though i might not realise it fully as i'm writing this, i rather be sad because of setbacks than sad because i didn’t do what i was put here to do.

through (out)growing pains i found my voice again–one i got to let you hear. so if not this year, see you in the audience in 2025 maybe?

in video: an excerpt of a poem from (out)growing pains.¹

reflection

• so, what happens to your dream deferred?

thank you for still being here.

writing you soon!

sincerely,

Sesa

1

music by Alex H. Smith