Angelita Hampton is a writer, visual artist, activist, sister, and daughter. She identifies as a Black feminist revolutionary inspired by and dedicated to social justice.
Living in a Crafter's Paradise
I am a multimedia artist. Because why do one craft, when you can do all the crafts? My art has grown out of the long-held love of all things artistic. Let’s start with a background on the young artist from when she was little. I grew up with creative parents who encouraged, indulged, and participated in all my creative endeavors. My father is a photographer, sketch artist, and go-to handyman. (He made a wooden carrying case for my rock collection when I was 11 and taught me watercolor and drawing). My mother is a writer, painter, seamstress, and all-around crafter. We made Christmas ornaments together when I was 13 and we still hang those ornaments on the tree every year. This was also the year we started making jewelry together, taking exciting trips to Michael’s and Joann Fabrics to search for findings, beads, and charms. (Or to find fabric for one of the many dresses she made me, including my prom dress). If that wasn't enough, we traveled down to Office Depot where she bought a set of business cards to help me launch my first foray into entrepreneurship. My best friend and I had started to make hand stamped stationery and chocolates, which we took to school and sold to classmates. And so it began.
Hidden tracks: Queer films and my path to women
A woman caught me by surprise, and I fell in love. Loving women was foretold to me like a prophecy I had not imagined. There is B.W. (before women) and A.W. (after women), marked like the beginning of a new era and an opening of worlds. I grew up and went through high school as what might be perceived as the typical all-American girl. I played sports nearly every season of my youth and when I wasn't being a “tomboy” on the field, I preferred to be in dresses (still do) with my nails done, and my long straight hair hanging down. My best friends were girls who I talked to about boys and clothes and feelings. I dated boys, went to prom with a boy and then went off to college with my then long-distance boyfriend back home finishing his last year of high school. But before I set out for this adventure, a strange thing happened. Both my boyfriend and my sister issued a warning, or perhaps a premonition, that at the time seemed random and without precedent. Odd that I can't remember the precise words, but the sentiment has stayed with me and has come to mind frequently over the years. In essence, they thought I might become a lesbian. I found it interesting or curious, but took little stock in the idea, as it had not occurred to me. Little did I know.
How a Trans Woman Helped Me Get In Touch with the Feminine
EXPLICIT LYRICS WARNING In the summer of 2000, I was living with my first girlfriend in the small city of Richmond IN. I had just graduated from Earlham College, where we met, a Quaker liberal arts school of 1000 students that was both a place of limitations and, full of possibility. As a school, we prided ourselves on being an open minded and welcoming community, but like everywhere, prejudice finds its way in and establishes a foothold. I had spent my sophomore year writing an editorial column on race relations for the school paper. By my senior year I had been the leader or coleader of almost every student group that represented marginalized communities- BLAC, the Multicultural Alliance, Women of Color and the Womyn's Center. The only group that I belonged to and did not lead at some point was Rainbow Tribe. I had not gotten my footing there and was still discovering what loving women meant to me. I had not fully found my voice but music gave me the words.
How to Survive Mercury Retrograde with Essential Oils:
Have things seemed a little crazy the last few days? Are you having trouble finding the words, getting where you're going, or making your Internet connection cooperate? You may be experiencing the effects of Mercury retrograde. Even if you are not much interested in astrology or don't believe in the metaphysical world, you are not free of the chaos that this astrological phenomenon can wreak.
My Vocal Mother
Writing women: The words, how they are related/and associated with each other, soft spoken but fierce like leading prides, itself, a sacrifice./Mothers edit out themselves/as wives and daughters and keepers of others, who's brother are they? to work or educate, to feed a child or take a day off, to relate to dreams. -a poem for momma
Waves unwind, like a woman falling into the recesses that memory reminds. She was too afraid but to creep out to the edge
The call and cost of war
The call to arms in a poorly worded draft, told, to take not comfort in a rod nor staff, but only defend the honor of the flag,
My Mother's Garden
In your element, you are the garden, crouched down and seated in the far end. With a smile, I watch you as you dig, jazz in movement, as your hands do a jig-