Last week I was at Data Grillen, a conference that embodies the word ‘community’ like none other. I was there to do a session on personal branding, and unexpectedly ended up reading a poem I wrote to close out the conference.
I say ‘unexpectedly’. It wasn’t wholly unexpected.
You see, a few months ago, I was on the Finding Data Friends podcast, hosted by the wonderful Jess Pomfret and Ben Weissman - the same Ben who co-organises Data Grillen. On the podcast, we chatted about various things, one of them being poetry.
Outside of work, I’m a writer. I’ve had work published in a couple of literary magazines, and I regularly read my poetry at open mics. We joked, on the pod, about me writing a data community poem and reading it on the balcony at Data Grillen.
Well…
I wrote the poem. That part was unexpected. But I’d just come home from an amazing open mic and felt so much love for the poetry community - and it was a similar feeling to being at a data community conference. The words poured out of me.
I sent it to Ben and didn’t think anything more of it, except a ‘wouldn’t that be fun’. A couple of jokes about it at Grillen later, and Ben’s suggesting I read it at the end of the conference, before the raffle.
Now, I love reading my poetry, it’s so much fun. But I’m usually reading it to other poets or creatives - not to data people, for many of whom English isn’t their first language and is their first poetry reading. I was shaking from adrenaline.
But I did it, and it went well! So I thought I’d share the poem here, to honour the tagline on my homepage.
Community#
I never would have thought to find myself a home in two such differing communities:
Poetry.
And data.
~
Poetry, I can understand,
You, too, can likely understand;
My foot taps to the beat of a poem and
The words bleed from my chest like an open wound I don’t want to staunch.
~
Poetry fuels me.
It ignites something in my bones, an apex of my heart like an emotional keystone.
Open mics make me feel alive,
Rhythm and rhyme and stanza combine
Into something beautiful.
A room full of poets is inherently a room full of kindness.
A room full of love, of healing, of laughter, of art.
A room full of my people, my chosen family.
I can look any poet in the eye and know that they see me,
Know that there is something we share that is both sacred and carefree.
~
And data?
Data fuels me less.
I am non-technical in the sense that I recently asked AI to write something on Microsoft Fabric.
And it spewed out something on textiles that was incomprehensible — I am that level of non-technical.
But somehow, some god pulled on a thread somewhere that dragged me into this world.
And somehow, the thread that god pulled lead me to find friends.
To walk into a room and know I will find someone I can talk to,
After a lifetime of standing at the edges waiting to be invited in.
And god, I’m an atheist, but I thank her for that.
For a place that feels like home, where I can truly be myself and don’t feel alone.
For friends I see 4 times a year but who wave to me across the room, and hug me tight when we meet;
And for chats that undoubtedly lead to laughter.
Because despite understanding maybe 30% of a conversation,
This community has brought me joy.
It’s brought me confidence, and love,
And the least toxic version of a ‘work family’.
~
So I suppose it maybe does make sense that Data and poetry are my two communities,
Because within them are the people I choose to be around.
And what a blessing it is, for these worlds to compound,
To expand, breathe and grow,
To shout a resounding sound of
”You belong here!”
So that even the kid I used to be knows that they are safe beyond their years,
That they are allowed to be here and be queer in a genuinely non-cringey way.
Knows that these worlds give them a space where they are not ‘too much’ and
Where they are no longer astray.
Watch me read it#
Thankfully, it was recorded! You can watch me read it on my poetry instagram account here: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DYxZXT0odbW/?igsh=MTZyb3I2YTQwZ2R0aA==
