The Conception of Giants
The origin of the project Giants came from a protest I attended while I was studying in New Zealand. While I was there, Donald Trump got elected as the president of the United States and the Women's March happened. For me, the women's march was the first ever protest I attended. While listening to the speeches and on my way home form the gathering, I collected my thoughts in a poem. As I had just started to animate a few poems I had created before, I thought this poem might be a good one as well. The text of the poem is as follows:
I am trying to walk
in the footsteps
of those who came before
those who paved the way
They have told me
I am standing on the shoulders
of the strongest giants
but I feel stuck under their feet
Never am I big enough to rise up
rise against, fight against
the gravest injustice
of having no voice for change
The lioness has cleared the path
but I am getting lost among
the trees, the sheep, the silent placards
a blue sky slowly turning red
There is blood underneath these boots
as hearts still beat with love and love and love
with every lungful we ask again and again
for love and love and love
And god knows love is not always enough
to get you through the day or night or even
that one terrible hour
But it carries us across the streets
marching, holding hands
with every step we silently scream
'I love you' to anyone who will listen
With black soles and black, brown, white hands
we hold on to signs screaming for rights
we already thought we had gained
It is the quiet that will break you
the leaving out, the letting go, the last hope
in everything you've ever done
love goes on and on and on
I will not hold it against you
if you did not walk with us
legs grow heavy, hearts grow heavier, shoulders cave
some have already left us
But I will rise out of footprints
of those who came before
holding on to the hands of giants
until we all stand tall.
The idea of a protest, and the phrase 'Standing on the shoulders of giants' lead to a different perspective on the characters usually found in fairy tales. I have come to realise that calling a person a giant (whether this is because of their accomplishments or their stature) is dehumanising, as it erases their humanity. Instead, I've started imagining everyone as having a giant or two with them. The things they don't want to talk about, but that have shaped them beyond measure. My giant is the loss of my mother. It is something that comes up every once in a while, and that follows me or that I carry with me, but I would never bring it up to someone at a first meeting. It is the 'big thing' that has shaped me into the person I am today. For others it is having depression, or an unseen illness. For one of my friends it's the feeling of being split between two countries.
But sometimes, we are also the giants ourselves. The clumsy people who don't feel like we fit into a room. The idea of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland sometimes feels like it has come to life. We feel too big or too small. Sometimes it's just our heads that inflate, sometimes it's an arm or a tongue. The idea of both physically and mentally growing and shrinking is interesting to me. So this is where our Giants lie sleeping for now. Until I'm able to wake them up.
I am trying to walk
in the footsteps
of those who came before
those who paved the way
They have told me
I am standing on the shoulders
of the strongest giants
but I feel stuck under their feet
Never am I big enough to rise up
rise against, fight against
the gravest injustice
of having no voice for change
The lioness has cleared the path
but I am getting lost among
the trees, the sheep, the silent placards
a blue sky slowly turning red
There is blood underneath these boots
as hearts still beat with love and love and love
with every lungful we ask again and again
for love and love and love
And god knows love is not always enough
to get you through the day or night or even
that one terrible hour
But it carries us across the streets
marching, holding hands
with every step we silently scream
'I love you' to anyone who will listen
With black soles and black, brown, white hands
we hold on to signs screaming for rights
we already thought we had gained
It is the quiet that will break you
the leaving out, the letting go, the last hope
in everything you've ever done
love goes on and on and on
I will not hold it against you
if you did not walk with us
legs grow heavy, hearts grow heavier, shoulders cave
some have already left us
But I will rise out of footprints
of those who came before
holding on to the hands of giants
until we all stand tall.
The idea of a protest, and the phrase 'Standing on the shoulders of giants' lead to a different perspective on the characters usually found in fairy tales. I have come to realise that calling a person a giant (whether this is because of their accomplishments or their stature) is dehumanising, as it erases their humanity. Instead, I've started imagining everyone as having a giant or two with them. The things they don't want to talk about, but that have shaped them beyond measure. My giant is the loss of my mother. It is something that comes up every once in a while, and that follows me or that I carry with me, but I would never bring it up to someone at a first meeting. It is the 'big thing' that has shaped me into the person I am today. For others it is having depression, or an unseen illness. For one of my friends it's the feeling of being split between two countries.
But sometimes, we are also the giants ourselves. The clumsy people who don't feel like we fit into a room. The idea of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland sometimes feels like it has come to life. We feel too big or too small. Sometimes it's just our heads that inflate, sometimes it's an arm or a tongue. The idea of both physically and mentally growing and shrinking is interesting to me. So this is where our Giants lie sleeping for now. Until I'm able to wake them up.
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