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Two women speak for many
By Gaetana Caldwell-Smith
In 2004, two African American women writers, Sonia Sanchez and Sarah
Jones, came into prominence, appearing at separate venues in New York,
reading and performing their works.
In late December, Sonia Sanchez, known primarily for her poetry,
took the stage at the Tribeca Performing Arts Center. The evening
celebrated the release her first spoken-word CD in 25 years, “Full Moon of Sonia,”
which includes a tribute to the artists who preceded her and to those who
will follow.
Standing center stage, in graying dreadlocks, she recited, in a
poetic litany inflected with African clicking sounds, names of diverse
writers and other
major personages who influenced her life as poet, teacher, and
activist. Among them were Tupac Shakur, Che Guevara, Danny Glover, and
Allen Ginsberg.
Over her 40-year career, Sanchez, now 70, has become an important
figure in both African American and women’s studies (She retired in 1997 as
the Laura
Carnell Chair in English at Temple University). Not surprisingly,
she is also a leading light to emerging hip-hop poets and rappers.
In the early 1960s, she supported the civil-rights philosophy and
activities of the Congress of Racial Equity (CORE). Yet soon, after
analyzing the message
of Malcolm X’s speeches, she began to consider herself a Black
nationalist.
In 1968, she pioneered and taught Black Studies at what is now San
Francisco State University. She left the Nation of Islam, after a five-year
membership (1971-76), due to its repression of woman.
In 1985, as a long-time resident of Philadelphia (she’s lived there
most of her life), she was deeply affected by one of the most egregious
attacks ever
perpetrated upon African Americans in recent history. Philadelphia’s “finest” bombed a
residential building in May of that year, in which members of the group MOVE
lived.
Made up mainly of Black men, women, and children, MOVE disdained
corporate ideology, tried to live naturally, and declared openly that the
U.S. government was corrupt.
Police had been harassing MOVE since at least 1978. In response to
alleged complaints by MOVE’s neighbors, the city authorities obtained a
bomb from the FBI, which the police dropped onto the roof of the MOVE home
from a helicopter. The resulting fire spread to some 50 homes, reducing
more than an entire city block to blackened, smoking ruins, Several MOVE
members and
children were killed. Of this tragedy, Sanchez wrote:
“Are you saying to me that we are at war with each other in this
country? Is the message to be given to people that if we speak out and
become non-conformists that certainly we can be killed? Or are you saying that
in a black neighborhood anything goes?“
— from the video documentary, “A Moveable Feast”
c’mon girl hurry on down to osage st
they’re roasting in the fire.
smell the dreadlocks & blk/skin
roasting in the fire
— Excerpted from “Elegy: For MOVE and Philadelphia”
Sensitive to the feelings of the people of Philadelphia, Sonia Sanchez
waited three years before presenting this poem to them, feeling that they
needed
time to heal and to come to realize that her poem wasn’t a personal
attack.
In a biography published by the University of Minnesota’s “Voices from
the Gaps, Women Writers of Color,” the biographer stated that Sanchez took
on the heavy responsibility of the elegy because she believes “we must
never let this happen again.”
Sonia Sanchez was the keynote speaker in the Towards an Africa
Without Borders Conference 2004, held in Madison, WI. She has written at
least 16 books, mostly poetry, which range from haiku to ebonics.
Sarah
Jones on Broadway
Solo performer and writer Sarah Jones, at 29, is less than half
Sanchez’s age. In just a few years, though, she has already become a strong
voice for America’s repressed, depressed, oppressed, and dispossessed, in much
the same way as Sanchez, only in the vehicle of the writer and solo
performer.
Unless poets read for the public, they often must wait till their
work is in print for feedback; Jones however, gets an immediate response
from her audience. The success of her new show “Bridge and Tunnel” is an indication
that people want more.
“Bridge and Tunnel,” produced by Meryl Streep and others, opened at
New York’s Bleecker Street Theatre last February. It closed its sold-out,
record
breaking, Off-Broadway box-office success in August and will move to
a yet unnamed (as of December 2004) theater on Broadway in March 2005.
(Sarah Jones’s “Women Can’t Wait” was reviewed by Socialist
Action in April 2002, and her “Surface Transit” in our July 2003 issue.)
“Bridge and Tunnel” takes place in front of a set consisting of a
back wall displaying colorful graffiti art. This is the Bridge and Tunnel
Cafe in South
Queens, host of the annual “I Am A Poet Too” poetry slam. One of
Jones’s many characters, slam MC Mohammed Ali, a kindly Pakistani, says
that “I Am A Poet Too “ stands for “Immigrant and Multi-culturalist American
Poets or Enthusiasts Traveling Toward Optimistic Openness.”
As in her previous shows, the gifted Jones makes her characters come
alive by simply changing a shirt or jacket, adding a head scarf, removing a
piece of
clothing, or slipping on a pair of glasses. For each character she
changes body types, as well as distinctive clothing.
Her postures, voice, dialect, and accents stay true, dedicated to
each character as she reveals them, whether depicting Mohammed Rashid, a
Brooklyn rapper; old, hobbling, Lorraine Levine from Long Island; Habiba, a
Jordanian; or Gladys, a young, self-advertised “poet-performer-playwright-spoken-word
artist-actress.”
Through her depiction of immigrants in New York, Jones is able to
get across her social, political, and cultural views. She has her
characters recount candidly the troubles and frustrations they face when having
to put up with racial and cultural slurs, discrimination, dealing with U.S.
bureaucracy in
everything from job-hunting, job-choices, applying for a driver’s
license, or school—and worst of all, the INS.
Still, she injects humor into her writing. Her characters often
laugh at themselves, which allows audiences to laugh with them. Yet, a
current of
poignancy runs through each rap, poem, or tale, as when a Vietnamese
slam poet recites: This is not a model Minority poem It won’t fold your
shirts, but it may air your dirty laundry.
Look for Sarah Jones’s “Bridge and Tunnel” on Broadway in
March.
*This
article first appeared in the January 2005 issue of Socialist Action
newspaper.
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