Asante Sana, Dr. Erwin Ponder

Doku. (“The father died.”) Sometimes when you speak, you hear an echo of all those who told you it before. Sometimes when you listen, you can hear drums. Sometimes when you put on an outfit—a disguise, really—you remember all the roles that had been played by those actors before you joined the scene.

For too many people, history begins when they begin paying attention. In many ways, history began for me when I met several individuals between 14 and 17. One of them was Erwin Ponder.  He became one of my surrogate fathers. Out of all of them, he was the most unusual.

Babafemi. (“Father loves me.”) He was always busy. I didn’t care; being lonely and hungry for information, I took all the time he had, and then some. You had to pay attention to what he was saying, because he could be making a joke, a gentle one at your expense. But he was much more serious than he let on. He knew much more than he let on—about history, and the Bible, the Nation of Islam, and the Qur’an. He would tell me things that I would take years, and several degrees, to understand. I was amazed to read about his youth in Newark in that Geraldo Rivera book, “Special Kind of Courage.” Did he ever show you that? Did he ever tell you he could draw? It took years for him to let those things slip out.

As I got older, he got more unusual. While I was in college, he would be an Upward Bound administrator in the morning and then be serving dinner as part of the University’s food serving staff in the afternoon! Before going to his third job, running a video store! In between all of that, he was a Q, a Mason, a Gospel choir manager, and who-knows-what-else! I’m sure he never told you this, but somehow he found time to spend half my senior year making sure I didn’t flunk out of Seton Hall. And I sure tried.

He seemed to never get credit for all of this. Not even from me! He told me that the only responsibility I had to him was to pass on the information to the next generation.

Asante Sana, Babatunde. (“Thank you, Father Who Has Returned!”) I decided a long time ago that I was going to be unusual, and I still am. And I will pass along the information, hearing echoes and drums and his voice from the Realm of the Ancestors and, hopefully, seeing possibilities.

Okay, With “Narnia” and “Tron” Finally Out Of The Way…….

………THIS is the movie I’m waiting for, anxiously. The GREATEST Superman story EVER. And if you have a lot of time and have read a lot of books, you can check this looonnnggg interview out, because it’s just that significant!

FEBRUARY 17th UPDATE: Enjoyed this:

Marita Golden's Writing Conversations

 

Marita Golden has a new book out. Here’s the publicity material.

 

A Conversation with Marita Golden,

editor of

THE WORD: Black Writers Talk About the Transformative Power of Reading and Writing 

(Broadway Paperbacks Original, on sale January 18, 2011)

 

What inspired you to choose to focus this book on the power of reading and writing?

 There has been so much public and contentious debate and discussion about the skills of young people, the failure of public schools, and the future of reading and the book swirling around us. I had not seen much from Black writers on this topic, so I wanted to provide our voices in the discussion.

 Why do you feel this is a topic particularly pertinent to the African-American community?

African Americans have been so important to the vitality of American literature—historically and contemporaneously—that these are issues that are very important in our community. It’s also pertinent because a disproportionate number of Black youth attend schools where they do not succeed academically so these questions resonate in the Black community.

What was your process to determine which writers you wanted to interview? 

 I wanted to interview a diverse group of writers; writers who are celebrated in the way that Nikki Giovanni is, as well as new voices like Mat Johnson, as well as scholars like David Levering Lewis and biographers like Wil Haygood.

You interview so many amazing black writers—Edwidge Danticat, Pearl Cleage, Ellis Cose just to name a few. What were you most struck by in these interviews? Did you discover any common threads in their experiences with reading or were you surprised by the differences?

 I think the common thread for all of the authors interviewed in the book, including myself, is that reading became a safe and valued place for us as children where we discovered possibilities. Writing became a map we used to find our way and our dreams realized in the world.

 What were some of the most powerful examples of how reading and writing unlocked astounding possibilities for the authors you spoke with? How were their lives forever changed?

 In many ways the stories the writers share about the power of reading and writing in their lives is a story of how both acts became a bridge that they crossed into a wider world and a broader sense of themselves and what they could do. Edwidge Danticat grew up in a repressive society in Haiti and for her parents the act of writing was seen as very dangerous because of what writing could reveal. As a result, she never shared with her parents much of her writing so that they would not worry about her, and yet she has become the country’s most articulate literary spokesperson. Writing gave her courage and a way to speak loudly in the world. She has said that writing is the way that we leave our footmark in the world.

Edward P. Jones was encouraged by his illiterate mother and by caring teachers in high school to read and write. Both endeavors gave him a way to honor the difficult experiences of his childhood and the tragedy that was so much a part of his mother’s life because of the limitations imposed on her because she could not read and write. He grew up to be a writer of international acclaim, so once again reading and writing were empowering tools.

 With literacy rates—especially among young African Americans—on the decline, how do you feel THE WORD contributes to the conversation? Do you hope to foster discussion around this issue with the book?

Yes, I hope the book will be read by all students and will serve as an inspiration for them to read more. I’d like to see the book used and discussed in all schools, not just inner city schools. Certainly these acclaimed writers have much to say to youth about the importance and role of reading and writing as an engine for creating a successful life. Even in the Facebook age, the world is still governed and created by those who master literacy and language. Students could research the authors in the book as a way of discovering their lives and their blueprints for success.

To schedule an interview with Marita Golden, please contact Justina Batchelor, 212-572-2247 or jbatchelor@randomhouse.com .

Book Reviews: The Screams And The Hopes Of The Invisible

At the Dark End of the Street: Black Women, Rape, and Resistance--A New History of the Civil Rights Movement from Rosa Parks to the Rise of Black Power
 

At The Dark End Of The Street: Black Women, Rape and Resistance—A New History Of The Civil Rights Movement From Rosa Parks To The Rise of Black Power.
Danielle L. McGuire.
Knopf.
352 pp. $27.95.

The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America's Great Migration
 

The Warmth Of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration.
Isabel Wilkerson.
Random House.
640 pp. $30.

The white man asked the Black boy to get him a “nice, clean colored girl.”  The purpose was clear. The Black boy’s job was to do what the white man said. He didn’t, choosing to give him a few choice words before running away. Running the way two Black male college students did when a group of white men ambushed them and their dates in a field.  (Were they just afraid, or afraid of being killed and forgotten while the women were raped anyway? In the 1940s, even public martyrdom was denied Blacks.) One woman got away. The other was gang-raped by the white mob, while the Black boys hid in the bushes.

Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Isabel Wilkerson (now a journalism professor at Boston University) and Danielle L. McGuire, a history professor at Wayne State University, have set American history afire with their respective works, their first. The books are so powerful they will either highly encourage or discourage future would-be history writers. Wilkerson takes more than 1,000 interviews and boils them down into three narratives of the Great Migration, the massive move North made by millions of descendants of enslaved Africans. She debunks theories that those migrants were a drain on the nation. McGuire, meanwhile, moves past the established white-male-liberal narrative of decades of Movement histories, exposing that the historical framework of what is now considered “spontaneous” 1950s and 1960s uprisings was actually anti-rape activism, a movement led by many Black women, including one named Rosa Parks. So, as McGuire boldly states, moving around sacred timelines, that the Montgomery Bus Boycott “was in many ways the last act of a decades-long struggle to protect Black women” from sexual harassment and overall abuse. Rosa Parks wasn’t (just) a tired seamstress; she was an angry activist, as angry as those who left all they knew and loved to take their chances in the mysterious North.

As great historians do, Wilkerson and McGuire pour over documents and books and ask new questions. They show that more unconventional truths can be found if the explorer is serious. “The facts of their lives unfurled over the generations like an unwrapped present, a secret told in syllables,” waxes Wilkerson of her subjects; the former New York Times Chicago bureau chief could be speaking for McGuire’s work as well as Wilkerson chronicles the hardships that resulted when the races clashed, “the poor at odds with the broke.”

Where Wilkerson and McGuire meet is at the core of the powerlessness of Black people, particularly Black fathers, husbands and boyfriends, to protect their women.  (Although McGuire documents in detail the cases of the brave women who actually took their assailants to court, these are the exceptions that prove the rule.) One of  Wilkerson’s profiles lists it as a primary reason to make the move, by any means possible: “He would not have to try to protect his daughters from some planter with snuff in his mouth and knew he couldn’t.” It is a helplessness so decades deep, McGuire indirectly suggests, that it might have been behind Rosa Parks voluntarily accepting the saintly (and subservient) role assigned to her by Montgomery’s Black leadership, with historical silence enveloping the women who actually organized the now world-famous bus protest. Did the idea of seeing their men at least—and at last!—attempting to protect them give them permission to step aside from the spotlight as  the 20th century was split into two? The fact that the question can now be asked is a testament to McGuire’s efforts.

Wilkerson has created a masterpiece. McGuire has thrown a bomb. Both spaces created by their work glow with brilliance.