Dear Friends,
I have a confession to make: I was always uncomfortable with the concept of Black History Month. It struck me as a pro forma attempt to honor the cultural contributions of people of color without allowing it to encroach too much on the nation’s consciousness, the other eleven months. Let’s be honest: if it’s only when February rolls around that you have the thought: You know, our lives are so much richer for the contributions of… (insert your cherished names and Black faces here), then I seriously have to question your grasp on what, in fact, contributes to this country’s greatness.
But I was naïve; I never envisioned a time when our highest elected officials would try to cure the pain of our troubling history by demanding we simply not think about it. Or to cope with social unrest and examples of wanton brutality inflicted on minority and immigrant communities by focusing on concerts, parades, and window-dressing patriotism. No one with an open mind can come to any conclusion other than this: our own government is trying to rewrite history so as not to make white Americans uncomfortable. Now I find myself grateful that February’s designation compels our American narrative to include perspectives on the past that many official voices are attempting to purge (and some of my fellow citizens would sooner forget). After all, it often requires a measure of discomfort to spur actual growth.
In the oft-quoted passage from his poem “Asphodel, That Greeny Flower,” William Carlos Williams wrote:
“It is difficult to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack
of what is found there.”
Respectfully, I must disagree. I feel that, over the years, I have gained (and continue to gain) the crucial news of our time from poets like: Rita Dove, Ishmael Reed, Sam Cornish, Tyehimba Jess, Lucille Clifton, Terrance Hayes, Patricia Smith, Afaa Michael Weaver, Major Jackson, Evie Shockley, and so many more––including NEPC’s own Danielle Legros George, Charles Coe, and Regie Gibson. I know that in my President’s Letter, I normally dwell on happenings more directly related to the workings of our Club. But these are simply not normal days. So I decided to spend this missive simply musing on poetry and our national consciousness- especially the ways Black poets have placed their own well-being at risk to continue telling the news that remains news (to borrow a phrase from another of our problematic brethren) long after the text alerts have silenced and the daily Globe has yellowed and blown away.
So here are a few headline-worthy lines–from the first Black woman appointed as Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress (the title that became United States Poet Laureate), Gwendolyn Brooks. Author of 20 volumes of poetry and recipient of more major literary honors than I could possibly name, she was writing here about another monumental figure in Black culture, the singer/actor Paul Robeson. Her poem pulls Robeson away from perhaps his most famous song, “Ol’ Man River,” and spotlights the pioneering role of his artistry and activism. Her poem concludes with a series of devastating phrases that ought to be seen as headlines, each of which is more vital now than ever: “we are each other’s/ harvest”–indeed, and we’ll starve if we fail to acknowledge all that we share. “We are each other’s/ business”–especially if you realize that the commerce of this nation must be in minds and souls, and not simply soy beans and automobiles. But this last one ought to be printed in 500-point type across each and every morning sky: “we are each other’s/ magnitude and bond.” Any notion of American greatness is meaningless if we have still not learned that.
Paul Robeson
By Gwendolyn Brooks
That time
we all heard it,
cool and clear,
cutting across the hot grit of the day.
The major Voice.
The adult Voice
forgoing Rolling River,
forgoing tearful tale of bale and barge
and other symptoms of an old despond.
Warning, in music-words
devout and large,
that we are each other’s
harvest:
we are each other’s
business:
we are each other’s
magnitude and bond.Warm regards,
Steven Ratiner
President, NEPC