Threadings.

This episode serves as an introduction to Ismatu Gwendolyn, as a patron asked them to reflect on their personhood. They asked the following: Who are you exactly? What do you do? Are you in grad school? Employed? You talk a lot about your politic— how do you embody what you believe in real life? Sitting to define myself always results in a secondhand assessment. I can only approximate: where did I come from, what did I do. What am I, precisely? At the moment... quite amorphous. And quite alright with that. Stunning things rise up from the formlessness.Read the full essay for free: ismatu.substack.comPaverpol art made by Kim Sontosoemarto / Collection Kim Sontosoemarto This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit ismatu.substack.com/subscribe

How does Grief show up in the Garden Space? What does she look like; where does she live? Most importantly, where do Grief and love coincide? Ismatu Gwendolyn performs a one-take reading of their essay, The Wisteria: a Love Letter to Grief, written about the passing of their Aunt Nadaline nine years ago. read the full essay at ismatu.substack.com. This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit ismatu.substack.com/subscribe

This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit ismatu.substack.comMe and my friend + former roomie Lorren discuss my exes, male-related stress, and how perplexing it is that there are men who cannot differentiate between basic vegetables.

Welcome to The Garden Space, a newsletter and podcast where we consider connection. What could it mean to be in community with oneself, one's intra and external space, as well as with one another? Where do I find myself? Ismatu Gwendolyn does a one-take reading of their essay, "The Garden Space: an Introduction."When I reached inside myself one day and pulled out something to put on a page, I found bright green raspberry leaves. Who was surprised? They were just like me, the way they hung to themselves until the good, thick ongoings of July. I thought the fruits were so silly. They hid under big bright leaves but couldn’t resist growing so good and so ripe and so heavy they would bend the whole plant and give themselves away. Raspberry juice tasted just like me. It was the first time I had ever experienced watching myself bloom in real time.I went inside myself and felt found. The first touch of my own earth humming hello under my bare toes. I had a garden space; how wonderful. This makes sense, I thought. The earth is everywhere.Read the full essay at ismatu.substack.com. This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit ismatu.substack.com/subscribe