Speramus Meliora; Resurget Cineribus

Detroit’s motto, “Speramus Meliora; Resurget Cineribus,” was written by Father Gabriel Richard, after the Great Fire of 1805 decimated the early city. Translated to "We hope for better things; it will rise from the ashes," the motto encapsulates the spirit of a city that is oftentimes referred to as “gritty.” Whether from literal fires, systemic disinvestment, white flight, gentrification, or so-called urban renewal, Detroit has continued to persevere and to rise above any challenges thrown our way. 

A then-presidential candidate visited Detroit and made the interesting choice to disparage our city, comparing it to a “developing country” and warning that if the other person won, “our whole country will end up being like Detroit.” The United States could only be so lucky. 

Detroit is home to some of the most beautiful, courageous, creative, and caring people anyone would be fortunate to know, some of whom you’ll get to meet via the upcoming submissions. Detroit is home to neighbors tending to a lightning-struck tree and each other, to musician activists urging us to remember we are the ones who can build the world we want, to a poet reminding us that the city is still here, because Detroit never left.

Intersectional Press also rose from the ashes. Founded by three women who’d been burned repeatedly by the nonprofit industrial complex, Intersectional Press decided that instead of burning it all down, we would build a better thing. Intersectional Press exists to provide an accessible, creative platform for artists and writers, especially those who hold marginalized identities, to tell their stories how they want. We hope you enjoy the glimpse into our community that this year’s atlas provides: a look into the better things not just hoped for but brought forth by our neighbors, who not only rose from the ashes but have always been here and will always be.

I too, lay awake at night
Eyes shut 
Wondering 
How to build a brick home out of sticks and stones 
And the memories
Memories that dance and twirl like embers 
From fireplaces built long before I decided against eggshell white
The smoke plumes from the chimney 
Signals the panic of neighbors
Not again
Draw back curtains to peer through stained glass windows
Funny
How this was built sacral once
Signaling to onlookers like 
Hello, yes, he returned and she was born again and I never left and therefore have
Risen
From the ashes