Before we can answer the question of what it means to be seen, we must first address another question: seen by whom? We’ve been counseled in the past to appeal to the hearts and minds of those who might wish us dead. I offer that this mode of thinking privileges a perspective that does not belong to us, because it legitimizes a voraciously rogue entity. Indeed, there have been many campaigns, literary offerings, works of art and cinema, etc., that focus their attention on how the dominant culture sees us. My appeal to the intramural: advance beyond the need to audition and perform for our executioner and turn our gaze and our curiosity on ourselves and on each other.
To me, being seen means recognition and incorporation, the responsibility of which belongs to those with whom we are in community. To truly be seen, one must first have the clarity of vision of self. Mirror work, coming face to face with the interior and loving her. We do this so that we may recognize like-minded members of our tribe, those who might need to save us one day and vice versa. The loving and benevolent are waiting on us to self-assess and self-define with clarity so that we may stand before one another and offer acknowledgment of our being bound together. Seeing and being seen requires the audacity to claim the role of narrator, to be the one who defines. Recognition and incorporation by those who matter are an act of self-determination. We look in the mirror to be seen—and look into the eyes of our beloved for our reflection.
In this issue, we consider community, precarity, and revolutionary love with Dr. Joy James, as she posits what it means to remain devoted during times of war. Bridgett M. Davis shares knowledge about the making and release of her boldly alluring exploration of bodily autonomy, intimacy, and sexuality, the 1996 gem Naked Acts. Filmmaker Anisia Uzeyman, co-director of Neptune Frost (2021), delves into the insurgent metaphysics of a third-eye filmmaking praxis. Expanding the scope of visual culture beyond the cinematic, Amarie Gipson spends time with Robert Pruitt in his Bronx studio, and Jasmin Hernandez tenderly wades through textured memories with artist Ambrose Rhapsody Murray. My hope is that there is something illuminating for just about everyone in this issue. And for all of their careful labor in birthing issue 007, my unrelenting gratitude is with the following people: Maori Holmes, Imran Siddiquee, Heidi Saman, Marielle Ingram, Gioncarlo Valentine, Raquel Hazell, Leo Brooks, Kavita Rajanna, Yasmine Espert, Camille Acker, Shauna Swartz, Brittni Collins, Brandi Holt, and all of our contributing writers, artists, editors, and photographers. I see you.