You are the magic. It's always been you.

how 'genius' is overrated (and misunderstood)

Jasper Joyner

Sep 13, 2023

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Mikael Owunna's "Anatomy of the Human" features a sparkling Black face repeated three times, each face less distinguishable than the first. — A close-up detail of Mikael Owunna's "Anatomy of the Human" in Pop Park // Photo by Patrick Fisher

The Renaissance came and everything changed, and we had this big idea; Let's put the individual human being at the center of the universe above all gods and mysteries, and there's no more room for mystical creatures who take dictation from the divine. - Elizabeth Gilbert, Ted Talk, 2009

I still think about this quote from a Ted Talk I watched a million years ago (okay, 14), in which Elizabeth Gilbert of Eat, Pray, Love fame spoke of the elusive nature of genius.

Now, I highlight Eat, Pray, Love here despite

Elizabeth Gilbert

’s illustrious career thereafter because she used the overwhelming admiration for her bestseller-turned-blockbuster to interrogate her journey out of craving genius visit her again.

She spoke of the Romans, who once believed genius was a separate entity from ourselves. They were considered guardian spirits who possessed the power to add a little extra brilliance into any piece of artistic work they desired.

I’m reminded of Anansi, the trickster god of the Akan people of Ghana, whose tales of power and protection traveled across the Caribbean by way of the transatlantic slave trade, enveloping many of slavery’s descendants in his preserving grasp.

Anansi is the god of stories, wisdom, knowledge, and trickery, most commonly presented as a spider. He’s understood as a symbol of survival for descendants of the enslaved, as his clever power of trickery was often used to overcome obstacles from our oppressors.

`Spiders visit me often when I’m writing I always say hello and thank you Perhaps they are my geniuses So I do not bother them and I do not ask that they bother me We live separate lives Unless`

Unless we are collaborating, in which case I have no control over said collaboration.

`when you create or rather when you struggle to create what exactly are you waiting for`

A friend and I bonded over the perils of writer’s block just days ago.

It’s a thing I used to think about often until a sort of epiphany I shared on this very newsletter. An epiphany that demanded I ask myself, “What, exactly, stands in the way of your creating? Of being creative.”

You might say inspiration. But I don’t know that inspiration needs to be found. It is not like genius, a rolling stone. A curious and playful god constantly seeking art to sprinkle its own magic into.

Maybe it is not that we can’t find inspiration, but that our minds get tired. Maybe we consume too much sometimes, or not enough, and so inspiration suggests we be quiet, that we resist the urge to go searching because it only drains us further.

Is a creative block simply our own impatience? Is our own magic frozen behind digestion and time? And is our search for genius only blocking our own magic in the first place?

`Genius don’t belong to nobody He goes where he feels like he goes where he’s needed`

I like to think of genius as a poetic “he.”

‘He’ because, as a society, we’ve decided that genius is a masculine trait. And therefore a far more desirable trait by all.

Genius is a force of action, you see. The yang to our collective yin. A masculine thing driven by motion, not stillness.

Stillness being feminine (the collective “we” do not care for feminine).

And so I like to call genius “he” and giggle to myself at how we are all so obsessed with him. We love him. We crave him. We link him to many a new avatar (see: humans unworthy of his title).

Of course, these avatars tend to be men. Of course. Men whose artistic works have inspired us in some way, even if it is not all of their work. Even if it is just one piece. We like to still call these men “genius.” Forever, genius.

It is wildly unusual for artists like Elizabeth Gilbert, or non-men, to maintain this genius title. Even when their work achieves it. It simply lives in and around the thing they created, never on their person, never uprooting them out of humanity and into godly status, because this is a patriarchy, darling, and since when are non-men gods in a patriarchy?!

And so then these men deemed genius become invincible. Even when their humanity begins to show again and we are reminded of their mortal nature. Even when their humanity harms or hurts or makes ungodly mistakes.

And genius is once again denied its own, separate existence. It is as if we have trapped genius in our own misunderstandings. We have denied genius his own freedom so that man may consume his power.

Is that not a mortal sin?

`So no, I don’t go searching for genius. I don’t bother spiders. I welcome their company. I thank them when they visit. I always say hello. We are not the same. They are not me. I am still magic.`

And I do get quiet. I like to sit still. Not to wait, but to just be. Grateful, silent, inspired, patient. Remembering my own magic and then moving again. Creating, again. Basking in my own human gifts, because our own magic is enough.

Genius comes and genius goes, and he ain’t loyal. He ain’t gotta be.

Thank you all for reading this wildly abstract post. Whew!

I’m feeling far-out. Spacey. Like a poem without words, yet here I am trying to express myself to you all. If you felt any of it, I’m happy. Thank you.

JASPER, a black pansy mag

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