Cebo Campbell

Conversations With Women (16 of 57)

We found them in the fields. Young bodies browning under June sun. Lazed and giggling. Air between them sweetened with the smell of dates. We hid in the palms. Ears tilted at lessons. Sometimes their laughter arrived with the breeze. To draft our dreams into the pilgrimage of clouds. They were, to us, like fallen dates. Golden forms, swollen with life. And the grass, were we. Upright appetites obsessed with the day. Longing to have it fall from the heavens and lie in our midst. One of them sees us and shouts, “What do ya’ll want?” We run away. Fast as we can. Because we don’t know the answer. Just the want. As if the grass can articulate why it longs for the sun.

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I am an author and a Creative Director.

As a full-time creative (VP of Creative Services at Spherical), I spend most days writing in the nooks and crannies of my available time. I wake up at 5:30am just to get in a few hours putting words on paper. I write on the train. I write on planes. I write waiting in lines. I feel I have to write. The reason is simple: representation.

I often tell the story of Ferris Bueller; a kid who decides to skip school and, on charm alone, steals a car, impersonates a cop, drinks underage, tampers with computers, and at every step exposes his best friends to peril, only to go home and fall asleep with his mother to kiss him into sweet dreams. I asked myself if Ferris were Trayvon Martin, how might that story end? I know the answer. So do you. And this is why representation is so important. I aim to contribute more stories into the world that diversely feature regular (but beautiful) lives made extraordinary. Art, I believe, is the only way to accomplish this. All my creative work is inspired by and aims to add to all the great work in the world.