Langston Ain't Dead

Seriously. I'd love to say more, but clearly I'm letting the ice rain get in the way of my productivity today - so I gotta make this quick.

Today is Langston Hughes' birthday. HOOray!
Happy Bday, bruh.

So I'm looking for a poem to tweet a line or two from and I found this poem.
OMG. Is he talking to me? Scratch that, is he sitting on my shoulder for every other meeting and dinner occasion I've had this month? Eavesdropping at book club perhaps?

All I can say is sankofa.
And this is why poet's will always have a job.


Dinner Guest: Me
by Langston Hughes

I know I am
The Negro Problem
Being wined and dined,
Answering the usual questions
That come to white mind
Which seeks demurely
To Probe in polite way
The why and wherewithal
Of darkness U.S.A.--
Wondering how things got this way
In current democratic night,
Murmuring gently
Over fraises du bois,
"I'm so ashamed of being white."

The lobster is delicious,
The wine divine,
And center of attention
At the damask table, mine.
To be a Problem on
Park Avenue at eight
Is not so bad.
Solutions to the Problem,
Of course, wait.

Four Things I've Learned at the Folklife Festival

#1 I learned two new stories. I am pretty serious about this training to be a storyteller thing - my dues to NABS, notwithstanding. (National.Association.of.Black.Storytellers) One about two sisters... definitely requires a slightly older audience and some finesse on the lesson. And one about King Hippo - which I have already told differently twice.

#2 I learned that Sister Sanchez is emboldened and comforted by the work I am my contemporaries are doing. I have known for some time that she is really into the work of building supporting loving young writers, young poets, young black people. But to hear her specifically reference me and other folks I knew was a whole other experience. (and a reminder that i need to stay on my game... for a reason. there is much work to do.)

#3 I learned a new concept around "technology." In chatting with Baba Teju (one of the storytellers who has done some major training as a healer-warrior during his extended stay in Africa in which he discovered he was the oldest living male of his tribe... so that made him chief... a whole other story. i digress...), he alluded to the various technologies associated with particular cultures. The Europeans as "mechanical" technology; Chinese as "body" technology; Native Americans as "nature" technology; and Africans as "spiritual" technology. He, of course, was focusing on the loss or manipulation or disavowing of African spiritual technology by black people... but I began ruminating. So... if you have the keepers or teachers or "naturals" of particular technologies... and each of these technologies is powerful, but none of them are particularly self-sufficient to builing or healing a world... doesn't this work as an alternate ending to the story of what we lost via the tower of Babylon? What if it was the separation of technologies, not the separation of languages... and therefore, in order to evolve and move the planet forward, all the people would have to come together to reunite the technologies into our "whole." hmmm....

#4 I learned I am beautiful in Columbia. Because I now have two Columbian stalkers (and at least ten gawkers and yesmen). Stalkers are never good ... but this has been a clear indication that "I" (meaning what I represent, my general look) am still the standard of beauty somewhere. It has been quite...reinforcing. Yes, we have "These Hips" and, sure, there is "AFRODITE", and .... yes, sisters can compliment each other and write odes to ourselves all daggone day. But there is always something special added to your day when a brother tells you that you are beautiful. And, for whatever reason... that just doesn't happen enough.

Making the Switch: Double lives are possibly overrated

Among the many many ways I am not ready... and among the long long list of things to do to truly consider myself "prepared" for my performances this week at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival... is a real standout: I'm stuck in double ID limbo.

Making the "switch" between persona and professor is a major transformation. Now, when I'm in true form - regularly open mic'ing, actively writing, and teaching - the transformation can take place in a dressing room. It's amazing what an afro will do for you if you really let it do the work!

But in my new role of "high powered almost all consuming diva manager", where there is always something for me to do or think about in relation to my job, the switch is much harder.

I am under-confident; my stomach is tight.

And dang it. I don't feel like a diva.

Though the stewardess did tell me I was beautiful. And that helped.

But, in common vernacular - I need to chill the frick out. In poet speak, I need to take a minute to ohm. Maybe I'll just quote myself...

with some appropriate paraphrasing...

time to remix sankofa
into the song of solomon
and fly myself home

this is a spiritual war
and i’m gon’ need to take a minute and ohm
before tying up my ashe
gathering my chi
and strapping on my redemption
all ancestors on deck
shake away the self-doubt
cleanse this aura and

wipe that plantation grin off my face



it's time. see you soon.