Not my favorite of hers, but there's something special in all of her novels. Very worthwhile to read them all. Also, brother-sister relationships are Not my favorite of hers, but there's something special in all of her novels. Very worthwhile to read them all. Also, brother-sister relationships are rare in Morrison (or at least a deeper exploration of them) so this was much needed. I didn't find Frank's revelation at the end all that shocking but I loved Cee's healing through the community of women (reminded me of Gloria Naylor's Mama Day, one of my favorite novels of all time).
Also I've read somewhere that Toni was adamant about not spilling out her characters' race for all her readers but her editors feared it would be too confusing. Hon, please. Let her do her thang. But there's a lack of racial markers compared to her earlier work (so jokes on the editors) and it's fascinating to see.
Ultimately, the novel (at a mere 147 pages) suffers from being too short. Just when it gets good it's over. Bittersweet. But then again it's the first novel she wrote after the passing of her 46-year-old son from cancer, so let's give her a break. ...more
The Origin of Others (2017) is a slim volume of Toni Morrison's thoughts on the language of race and racism. Based on her 2016 Norton lectures at HarvThe Origin of Others (2017) is a slim volume of Toni Morrison's thoughts on the language of race and racism. Based on her 2016 Norton lectures at Harvard on "the literature of belonging", her thoughts were compiled in six chapters in this book, which is accompanied by an introduction by Ta-Nehisi Coates.
I've read a lot of Morrison in 2024—Paradise, Love and God Help the Child—and started craving some nonfiction by her as well. As expected, Mama Morrison delivered on all fronts. And I know this might be my comparatively young ass talking but I find it remarkable how intelligent and "with the times" she was up until her death at age 88. So many other old folks could never. Toni was always for the people, and remained clear in her intent and purpose until the very end. Mad respect!
In these essays Morrison switches from the personal to the universal: the describes the mechanisms of colorism, but also how it affected her own family and how her great-grandmother said of her lighter granddaughters: "These children have been tampered with." A core memory for Morrison as she immediately felt "lesser" and ashamed, that she and her sister "sullied" her family's "racial purity". It's fascinating to read about how such a minor, almost throwaway comment can influence a young person's mind. It would take Morrison years to unpack her great-grandmother's contempt.
In her essay on slavery she skillfully points out that enslavers knew that slavery was inhumane, they simply ignored that fact because it was so profitable for them. Morrison comes with the receipts and it's a sight to behold. She kept stomping on white folks' necks, and wouldn't let anyone victimise themselves or plead innocent. Morrison keeps interrogating white folks, and the white soul, she asks the poignant question: "Who were these people?" A simple question it seems, at first, but if you really dig into the horrors committed it becomes astonishing. She points out that "the danger of sympathising with the stranger is the possibility of becoming a stranger", which explains why white people simply defined BIPOC as objects, and not humans worthy of empathy and human decency. It's a simple trick that becomes less simple when you consider the mental gymnastics needed to truly pull it off and convince yourself that other human beings aren't human beings.
One thing that Morrison points out is that in Paradise, just like in Recitatif, she consciously left out the race of her characters. Paradise famously opens with: "They shoot the white girl first. With the rest they can take their time." Yet, throughout the novel she never clarifies which of the women is the "white girl", and which are the Black ones. In The Origin of Others Morrison asks herself if her readers search for this white girl, if it becomes a game to figure it out. She also says that in all her years only one woman guessed correctly. Funnily enough, I didn't concern myself at all with that question when I was reading Paradise. I think I might have even forgotten that one of the women was supposed to be white, and read them all as Black. It's definitely something to keep in mind, when I reread the novel!
She says that in Home she wanted to make her readers "forgot" race again, yet her editors were nervous about it, and told her to incorporate specific "clues" in regards to the race of the novel's main character. And that pisses me clean off. I'm not saying that well-established authors shouldn't be prone to listening to editors but we're talking Morrison here. Home was published in 2012, Morrison was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1993. LET THAT WOMAN COOK. We also learn that the conception of "Recitatif" (which is such a good short story) initially started out as a play which Morrison wrote for one white and one Black actress. The play was so poorly received (LMAO) that it never came to fruition and Morrison reworked the text.
Morrison also explains the ending of Beloved and why it couldn't end with Sethe (the iconic: "You your own best thing."—WORDS THAT ARE LITERALLY STILL EDGED ON MY EYE BALLS), but had to end with the ghost, Beloved.
One thing that tore at my heartstrings is that Morrison mentions in one of the essays that she is currently working on a new novel. The novel that never was. Morrison would die before completing it which makes me very sad. But she really kept working until the very end. I wonder if they are any manuscripts or any information whatsoever available? Lemme do some research.
In the last essay, Morrison dissects Camara Laye's The Radiance of the King, a novel which I now desperately want to read. Her analysis was super insightful and makes me wonder whether she wrote so extensively about other books as well—because I would read it all and eat that shit up. Morrison was the one. She is my number one, forever....more
Rest in Power, Nikki. June 7, 1943 – December 9, 2024 Rest in Power, Jimmy. August 2, 1924 – December 1, 1987
A Dialogue is a transcript of a taped convRest in Power, Nikki. June 7, 1943 – December 9, 2024 Rest in Power, Jimmy. August 2, 1924 – December 1, 1987
A Dialogue is a transcript of a taped conversation that James Baldwin and Nikki Giovanni held in 1971. The book is now out of print and impossible to find but you can still listen to the conversation on YouTube, I'd even recommend watching the video over reading the book, as the book leaves out certain passages, e.g. the now famous "Lie to me" passage that made this conversation go viral on social media in our day and age.
In this conversation, the then 28-year-old Nikki Giovanni and 47-year-old James Baldwin try to figure out why and how the gap between Black men and Black women grew so vast. They both argue from different perspectives. Nikki as a woman, Jimmy as a man. Nikki as a representation of the younger generation, Baldwin of the older generation. It's fascinating because they bud heads many times—mainly because Nikki is very self-assured and strong in her sometimes radical beliefs—but they manage to reach common ground. The mutual respect and love between these two is what makes this conversation stand out years later.
Their main point of dissent stems from the fact that Nikki is disappointed in Black men, and how they've let down Black women over the past decades. Nikki, apparently, grew up in an abusive household and seeing her father brutalise her mother deeply affected her. She says: "He knows that he is not being treated [at work] with the respect due to him as a person, as a Black man. In order to get that together, when he comes into the house he begins to brutalize my mother. Which becomes a strange phenomenon to me because I don't like white people and I'm afraid of Black men." It's a powerful admission, and a frightening. And unfortunately one that many Black women in our day and age would still echo.
Baldwin tries to explain that "When a man's sexuality is gone, his possibility, his hope, of loving is also gone." and that "A man comes home; he's in a situation which he cannot control. He is a human being; it's got to come out somewhere." But don't get it twisted, Baldwin doesn't want to defend the abuse, he just wants to penetrate its source: "It may be wrong, of course it's wrong, but we're dealing with human beings, you know. One cannot be romantic about human nature; one cannot be romantic about one's own nature." I still don't find his argumentation that strong. Sure, it's got to come out "somewhere", I would personally agree with that; but why does it have to come out at the person that's closest to you? Why doesn't it come out at your boss or society in general?
And so Nikki laments: "[Black men] are not lovable, they're not giving any love. They couldn't give a damn about me. And that's unfortunate, because I need love." She doesn't understand why Black men leave their women if they cannot provide for them: "Maybelle doesn't need a crib. The baby's going to sleep someplace. The baby's going to eat something. But what Maybelle needs at that moment is a man. [...] Maybelle understands there is no job. But what she needs is a man to come by and say, Hey baby, you look good. And Black men refuse to function like that because they say, I want to bring the crib when I come. You're never going to get the crib. Bring yourself." As a woman I understand Nikki's line of thinking. Leaving your family because you seemingly cannot provide for them is a cowardly one, and one that men can easily hide behind. Showing up and being present but being unable to provide "a crib" is obviously better than never showing up and still being unable to provide anything. It shouldn't be that hard to understand.
And Jimmy says that he does understand this. But that Nikki is only right from her point of view. And Jimmy wants her to understand the man's point of view as well: "In this civilisation a man who cannot support his wife and child is not a man. [...] You can blame him on a human level if you like, but I think it's more interesting to try to understand it, the bag the cat is in." Again, I might understand a man's desire to "be a man" but I think we as a society need to change what that means. I personally don't subscribe to the assumption that being a man equals being the sole provider of your family.
And Nikki sums up her frustrations, and the frustrations many Black women share, poignantly: "We have our dashikis and your hair is growing, but you're still trying to be little white men. It doesn't work." She's got a point, what can I say.
Before we move on to the other topics these two cover in this conversation, I need to quote the "Lie to me" passage in full because it was sadly cut from the written transcript (dear editors, why????), and I couldn't find a text version of it anywhere online. To me, this is one of the most powerful examples of two generations truly listening to and reckoning with one another:
Giovanni: Okay. That's all that's gonna work. It takes two people to have a relationship. If you don't have a dream, fake it.
Baldwin: You can't fake a dream.
Giovanni: You got to fake it. Because we don't got dreams these days. How the hell can you have a dream? For what? Everybody's jiving, so let's jive on that level.
Baldwin: If I love you, I can't lie to you.
Giovanni: Of course you can lie to me. And you will. If you love me and you're going off with Maddy some place, you're lying to me. Cause what the hell do I care about the truth? I care if you were there. What Billy Holiday say: “Hush now, don't explain.”
Baldwin: All right, I accept that.
Giovanni: Of course. Of course you lie to me. And I don't even wanna — what does the truth matter? And why you gon' be truthful with me when you lie to everybody else? You lied when you smiled at that cracker down the job, right? Lie to me. Smile. Treat me the same way you would treat him.
Baldwin: I can't treat you the—
Giovanni: You must. You must. Because I've caught the frowns and the anger. He's happy with you. Of course he doesn't know you're unhappy, you credit at him all day long. You come home and I catch you. Because I love you, I get least of you. I get the very minimum. And I'm saying, you know, fake it with me. Is that too much of the Black woman to ask of the Black man?
If you watch the video you can see how taken aback Jimmy is by Nikki's words. He's so impressed with her, it's adorable.
The two, of course, touch on race a lot. And Jimmy says that "what the world does to you, if the world does it to you long enough and effectively enough, you begin to do to yourself. [...] you can hardly move by the time you're fourteen." He says you can only break free as a Black person (living in the US) "...when you begin to realize all of that, which is not easy, that you begin to break out of the culture which has produced you and discover the culture which really produced you."
Nikki, on the other hand, is mainly concerned with the question of power: "I would like—I would sell my soul—You know what I mean? What does it profit a man to gain the world and lose his soul? The world! You know what I mean? The world. That's what it profits him." She closes: "You can have Jesus but give me the world." Which is a bold statement and one that Jimmy, though having his problems with the Church in his own way, can't subscribe to fully. He stresses the importance of the Church for Black people, being one of the only places in which Black men can cry and let their emotions run free, being one of the few places they can gather and organize in public, though he also condemns the Church as an institution. Another interesting exchange between the two goes as follows:
Giovanni: I think one of the nicest things that we created as a generation was just the fact that we could say, Hey, I don't like white people.
Baldwin: It's a great liberation.
Giovanni: It was the beginning, of course, of being able to like them.
Baldwin: Exactly.
Giovanni: Which, of course, upsets them but that's their problem.
I find it so wonderful and empowering that these two brilliant Black thinkers are able to bounce off one another so nicely. In general, it's interesting to see how in tune these two are, despite having their differences.
Some other of my favorite passages include Jimmy explaining the problems with cops ("Yeah, and he may be a very nice man. But I haven't got the time to figure that out. All I know is, he's got a uniform and a gun and I have to relate to him that way. That's the only way to relate to him because one of us may have to die." — he's spot on and most Black men in the US would second his statement today), him retelling the story of how Lorraine gagged Bobby Kennedy (he really tells that story any chance he gets, like, it's a core memory for him. She loved our girl. Lorraine truly was the one, hun!) and him saying that he has disregarded his own generation altogether and is looking at young folks for the solution. I also love when he says: "But, baby, it takes people a very long time to learn very little." Because, hot damn, he's right.
One really powerful moment is when Jimmy says that "Well, as a Black man I've paid too much for America to be able to abandon it." and says that his father and his father's father all also certainly paid too much for it, and Nikki interjects: "Hell, I've paid too much for it. And I'm only 28."
Toward the end they talk a lot about the duties of an artist and they also touch on literary criticism, a topic, as you might imagine, that I find hella fascinating. Jimmy says: "No white critic can judge my work. I'd be a fool if I dependent on that judgement." And Nikki agrees with him. Gagged me a bit, not gonna lie. Good stuff. Toni echoes that sentiment in her interviews as well. So if the trifecta of brilliant African American writers says so, who are you to disagree?
There is so much that readers (or viewers) can take from this rich conversation. Ida Lewis puts it so brilliantly in her introduction: "Jimmy and Nikki are a cornerstone. The next brick is yours. You can hurl it or you can put it in place." I think imma hurl it but what you do is up to you. <3...more
Most people aren't aware that James Baldwin was a poet, as well as a novelist and essayist. He didn't write many poems but he started writing them in Most people aren't aware that James Baldwin was a poet, as well as a novelist and essayist. He didn't write many poems but he started writing them in his youth, for the De Witt Clinton High School literary magazine, The Magpie,—Baldwin attended the school from 1939 to 1942—and kept writing them until his death. His most famous poetry collection, Jimmy's Blues, was published in 1983, four years before his death.
Over the years, many poems have resurfaced that weren't included in Jimmy's Blues, but rather in the much more obscure collection Gypsy & Other Poems, published posthumously in 1989, as well as the early Magpie poems. I took some pain to research these poems and compiled them all in a document. Other Poems collects:
1. Other Poems • A Lover's Question • Inventory/On Being 52 • Gypsy • Song For The Shepherd Boy • For A. • For EARL • Untitled • BALLAD (for Yoran)
2. The Magpie Poems • YOUTH • Judgment Day • Black Girl Shouting • PARADISE
As I've written in my review for Jimmy's Blues, Baldwin was not the most gifted poet, yet his words always reach the soul. As in his novels, his lyricism is of a unique quality that speaks to the heart.
In one of my favorite poems from this collection, "A Lover's Question", Baldwin laments:
yet, my love: you do not know how desperately I hoped that you would grow not so much to love me as to know that what you do to me you do to you.
—which is a haunting sentiment and something that is echoed in Baldwin's other writing as well: "what you do to me / you do to you".
My absolute favorite poems were "Inventory/On Being 52" and one untitled one. "Inventory/On Being 52" opens with the iconic lines: "My progress report / concerning my journey to the palace of wisdom / is discouraging. / I lack certain indispensable aptitudes. / Furthermore, it appears / that I packed the wrong things." The reason why I love this so much is that Baldwin seems like such a wise man, a person who had shit figured out, yet here we see him, at age 52, basically admitting: hunny, i got nothing figured out. And that's so reassuring; so reassuringly human. We love a messy queen. "I lack certain indispensable aptitudes." — BABE, WHO DOESN'T???
In "For A.", Baldwin writes: "Love, love has no gifts to give except the revelation that the soul can live:" (uff)—which is just so fucking beautiful. Another poem that deeply moved me was "For EARL", which he wrote after Earl's passing in honor of him. The poem ends as follows: "Therefore, farewell, / for now: / Dig you, later: alligator." It's such a simple closing line but it conveys so much. Through that line I can glimpse a wonderful friendship that was full of love, humor and a deep understanding of one another. I dig it.
I wanna quote the untitled poem in full because ya'll deserve to be graced with it:
Lord, when you send the rain think about it, please, a little? Do not get carried away by the sound of falling water, the marvelous light on the falling water. I am beneath that water. It falls with great force and the light Blinds me to the light.
Babes, I'm not religious (I elaborated on that in my reviews on Eliot's religious ass poetry) BUT THIS GETS ME. "when you send the rain / think about it please / ... i am beneath that water". Hullo??? How chilling is that. A great poem that speaks of compassion and empathy. Love, love, love.
Baldwin's Magpie poems are largely forgettable (he was 15-17 years old when composing them, so I won't be judging!), but one line that stands out comes from "YOUTH". It shows that Jimmy was always interested in making himself heard: "Your word is not enough for / me-- / I must have my own." And young Jimmy, when I tell you, boy did you have your own. You did great, kid. <3...more
"Die Liebe diesmal" ist eine Rede, die Raphaëlle Red anlässlich von Baldwins 100. Geburtstag in Berlin-Wannsee gehalten hat – Baldwin wäre am 2. Augus"Die Liebe diesmal" ist eine Rede, die Raphaëlle Red anlässlich von Baldwins 100. Geburtstag in Berlin-Wannsee gehalten hat – Baldwin wäre am 2. August 2024 100 Jahre alt geworden. Das Festival What Would James Baldwin Do? feierte den Romanautor, Essayisten, Dramatiker, Poeten und Menschenrechtsaktivisten. Drei Tage lang widmete es sich im Literarischen Colloquium Berlin (6. & 7. September) und im Haus der Kulturen der Welt (8. September) den vielen Facetten von Baldwins Werk: seiner Prosa, die ihn zum Weltstar machte, seinen bemerkenswerten und doch weniger bekannten lyrischen Texten, seinen Theaterstücken und seinem Leben in der Türkei, den Filmen, für die er vor der Kamera stand, und der Musik, die ihn inspirierte.
Ich war am 6. und 7. September vor Ort und habe verschiedenen Lesungen und Diskussionsrunden beigewohnt. Mein absolutes Highlight, neben der Diskussionsrunde rund um die Übersetzung von Baldwins Gedichten ins Deutsche, war Raphaëlle Reds Eröffnungsrede, "Die Liebe diesmal".
Ich werde nie vergessen, wie ich recht weit vorne auf meinem Stuhl saß. Um mich herum unglaublich viele Schwarze Menschen (...der Berliner Literaturbetrieb ist sonst deutlich weißer als man denken würde). Und wir alle lauschten andächtig Raphaëlles Stimme. Ich kann es nicht anders sagen, aber ich war sofort verliebt. Einfach nur hin und weg. Nicht nur von dem, was sie sagte, sondern vor allem von dem, wie sie es sagte. Sie wirkte so self-assured, so voller Liebe und Zuversicht. Es war wirklich toll.
In der Rede spricht Raphaëlle viel über sich selbst. Über ihre Zwanziger, ihre Studienzeit in Harlem. Über ihre Politisierung. Wie sie mit Freunden über "Kapitalismus, Patriarchat, Kolonialismus" diskutierte. Aber auch wie sie gemeinsam kochten oder warum es sich halt Liebe nennt, "wenn es jeden Donnerstagabend frisch gebackenen Schokokuchen gibt." Hier in Harlem lernt Raphaëlle Jimmy kennen. Sie liest The Fire Next Time und ist sofort berührt von seinem Text, empfindet seinen Brief an seinen Neffen als eine Art "Umarmung".
Raphaëlle beschreibt eindrücklich, wie diese Lektüre ihr Leben veränderte. Sie spricht sogar davon, dass The Fire Next Time ihr "leben gerettet habe". Vor allem eine Passage – "Please try to remember that what they believe, as well as what they do and cause you to endure, does not testify to your inferiority but to their humanity and fear. Please try to be clear, dear James, through the storm which rages about your youthful head today…" – bleibt der jungen Raphaëlle im Kopf. Baldwin bittet hier seinen Neffen, "Please try to...", und versucht nicht, ihm etwas vorzuschreiben. Es ist diese Zärtlichkeit Baldwins, die Raphaëlle so berührt und die ihr Leben verändern wird. Denn in Baldwins Praxis lässt sich hassen und lieben, die Wut kann einen völlig überkommen, die Tränen oder der Frust überlaufen. "Please try to be clear, dear James, through the storm which rages about your youthful head today…" Please try.
Raphaëlle endet ihre Rede mit folgenden Worten: "Von Baldwin und dem Winter in Harlem behielten wir das Wissen, Teil einer verstrickten Welt zu sein. Wir behielten die Freundschaft. Und die Erinnerung, dass Menschen von bestimmten Positionen aus, in einem bestimmten Kontext sprechen, und lieben, und Sex haben, und schreiben, und aggressiv werden, und Nähe suchen, und sich prügeln, und füreinander Kochen."
Diese Rede mag vielleicht ein Fall von "muss man dabei gewesen sein" sein, da die Stimmung an dem Abend wirklich magisch und Raphaëlle ganz zauberhaft war, aber auch in der Nachschau lohnt sich die Lektüre. Kann man ganz einfach online finden. Gebt sie euch bitte!...more
This is a personal selection of 25 of my favorite poems in the English language that I didn't own in any other edition. And being the book-obsessed coThis is a personal selection of 25 of my favorite poems in the English language that I didn't own in any other edition. And being the book-obsessed collector that I am I decided to create a PDF of these poems and had them bound in a cute little pamphlet. I am obsessed. From Frost and Henley to Plath, Whitman and Hughes, with a sprinkle of Clifton and Brooks—this selection does not disappoint.
Here's an overview of the 25 poems that I chose, in chronological order from 1807 to 2015:
1. William Wordsworth, “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” 2. Lord Byron, “She Walks in Beauty” 3. Walt Whitman, “O Captain! My Captain!” 4. William Ernest Henley, “Invictus” 5. Emily Dickinson, “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers” 6. Paul Laurence Dunbar, “We Wear the Mask“ 7. Lord Alfred Douglas, “The Dead Poet” 8. Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken” 9. Wallace Stevens, “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” 10. Sara Teasdale, “There Will Come Soft Rains” 11. Robert Frost, “Fire and Ice” 12. Robert Frost, “Nothing Gold Can Stay” 13. Abel Meeropol, “Strange Fruit” 14. Dylan Thomas, “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night” 15. Langston Hughes, “Harlem” 16. Gwendolyn Brooks, “We Real Cool” 17. Jean Rhys, “Obeah Night” 18. Sylvia Plath, “Daddy” 19. Louise Glück, “Mock Orange” 20. June Jordan, “Democracy Poem #1” 21. Philip Larkin, “This Be The Verse” 22. Maya Angelou, “Still I Rise” 23. Lucille Clifton, “Homage to My Hips” 24. Terrance Hayes, “We Should Make a Documentary About Spades” 25. Ross Gay, “A Small Needful Fact”
Most of these poems mean a shit-ton to me, and I would like to learn them all by heart. (Can you tell I'm doing my very best to become as insufferable as can be.) You can find all of these poems online for free so open up Google if you're unfamiliar with any of them. They are all worth your time. Most of them are rather short (less than a page!) and thus only work when quoting them in their entirety, like “Democracy Poem #1” or “We Real Cool” (ugh, such good poems)—but I didn't wanna leave you without any quotes, so I wrote some down that kinda work on their own:
“It matters not how strait the gate, / How charged with punishments the scroll, / I am the master of my fate, / I am the captain of my soul.” (from #4)
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— / I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference.” (from #8)
“Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.” (from #18)
“Leaving behind nights of terror and fear / I rise / Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear” (from #22)
“I know you are not my enemy. You say there are no enemies / In Spades. Spades is a game our enemies do not play.” (from #24)...more
Thomas Sankara was a Burkinabè military officer, Marxist revolutionary and Pan-Africanist who served as President of Burkina Faso from his coup in 198Thomas Sankara was a Burkinabè military officer, Marxist revolutionary and Pan-Africanist who served as President of Burkina Faso from his coup in 1983 to his assassination in 1987. Or as I like to refer to him: He was the man. He told it like it is. It's a true shame that he was assassinated so soon (...or at all).
The source of the evil was political and so the only cure must be a political one.
At the age of 33, Sankara became the President of the Republic of Upper Volta and launched an unprecedented series of social, ecological, and economic reforms. In 1984, Sankara oversaw the renaming of the country to Burkina Faso ('Land of Incorruptible People'), with its people being called Burkinabé ('upright people'). His foreign policies were centred on anti-imperialism and he rejected loans and capital from organizations such as the International Monetary Fund. However he welcomed some foreign aid in an effort to boost the domestic economy, diversify the sources of assistance, and make Burkina Faso self-sufficient.
His domestic policies included famine prevention, agrarian expansion, land reform, and suspending rural poll taxes, as well as a nationwide literacy campaign and vaccination program to reduce meningitis, yellow fever and measles. Sankara's health programmes distributed millions of doses of vaccines to children across Burkina Faso. His government also focused on building schools, health centres, water reservoirs, and infrastructure projects. He combatted desertification of the Sahel by planting more than 10 million trees. Socially, his government enforced the prohibition of female genital mutilation, forced marriages and polygamy. This man got shit done!
Sankara's revolutionary programmes and reforms for African self-reliance made him an icon to many Africans as well as people from all over the world.
Thomas Sankara defined his program as anti-imperialist. In this respect, France became the main target of revolutionary rhetoric. When President François Mitterrand visited Burkina Faso in November 1986, Sankara criticized the French for having received Pieter Botha, the Prime Minister of South Africa, which still enforced apartheid; and Jonas Savimbi, the leader of UNITA, in France, referring to both men as 'covered in blood from head to toe'. In response, France reduced its economic aid to Burkina Faso by 80% between 1983 and 1985.
Denouncing the support of the United States to Israel and South Africa, he called on African countries to boycott the 1984 Summer Olympics in Los Angeles. At the United Nations General Assembly, he denounced the invasion of Grenada by the United States. The latter nation responded by implementing trade sanctions against Burkina Faso. Also at the UN, Sankara called for an end to the veto power granted to the great powers. In the name of the 'right of peoples to sovereignty', he supported the national demands of the Western Sahara, Palestine, the Nicaraguan Sandinistas, and the South African ANC.
If all of this sounds interesting to you you should definitely check out Sankara's speeches, among which you'll find his amazingly bold speech before the General Assembly of the United Nations in 1984. Calling out US politics right in front of US politicians? Chef's kiss. Calling out the UN's hypocrisy when it comes to South Africa and Israel right in front/ at the UN? Chef's fucking kiss. Like I said, Sankara was the man. Nobody did it like him.
Some years ago, I read another of his brilliant speeches on women's rights and fell in love with him. I vowed to read up more on his life and philosophy but never did. If you have any good recommendations for biographies or nonfiction works, hit me up! I want to read them!
His speech before the General Assembly of the United Nations in 1984 is a favorite in my household. My dad's obsessed with it and he wanted me to listen to it for ages. I never did because I feared I wouldn't understand his French well enough. Now I finally found the time to seek out an English translation and wowza – it's amazing. The power this speech holds is one to be reckoned with.
I would highly recommend reading it fully but I will leave you with my favorite quotes:
"Aid is supposed to help development, but one can look in vain in what used to be Upper Volta to see any sign of any kind of development."
"I rise up on behalf of all who seek in vain any forum in the world to make their voices heard and to have themselves taken seriously."
"...and like all the rights of peoples it is a right which can be gained only through the struggle of the peoples."
"It is our blood that nourished the rise of capitalism, that made possible our present condition of dependence and consolidated our underdevelopment."
It was fascinated (and saddening) to see how timely his speech is 40 fucking years later. Western countries still think themselves the mighty ones and in the right to exploit African nations, Palestinians are still fighting for their freedom, capitalism is still fucking us all over. But Sankara sets an empowering example of what do to in a situation of powerlessness: rise up, gather your people and your force, speak up, fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. The ending of this speech reads like a prophecy: "Fatherland or death: we shall triumph." Sankara didn't triumph then. Death was his. But it doesn't have to be ours....more
THIS WAS GREAT. I can totally see why it's such a popular short story on school curricula. It even made me go into a Toni Cade Bambara rabbit whole, oTHIS WAS GREAT. I can totally see why it's such a popular short story on school curricula. It even made me go into a Toni Cade Bambara rabbit whole, only to realise that she is seriously UNDER-APPRECIATED and a lot of her work is hard to find/out of print. I'm definitely putting her short story collection Gorilla, My Love on my reading list.
"The Lesson" is told from the perspective of Sylvia, a young Black girl growing up in a poor district in Brooklyn (Bambara herself was born in New York and grew up in Harlem – which might have served as inspiration for this story). The story takes place on the day Miss Moore takes some of the neighborhood kids to the fancy FAO Schwarz Toy Store in Manhattan, where toys are aimed at white customers and are extremely expensive. The kids realise that some of these toys cost more than their households' yearly incomes.
The lesson on economic inequality is not lost on the kids, though some, Sylvia among them, refuse to acknowledge it. They're left with an uneasy feeling, but unwilling to truly contemplate and dissect how this unjust economic and social system disadvantages them and their people.
It was fascinating to see Sylvia's contempt of Miss Moore. She is too young (maybe even too uneducated) to blame the system. However, there is a shift in the story and toward the end, Sylvia seeks solitude to contemplate the events of the day. She becomes angry ("but I sure want to punch somebody in the mouth") – which is a natural reaction – as well as defensive: "ain't nobody gonna beat me at nuthin."
It's a very short short story and Toni Cade Bambara's intent is more than clear – I even understand people who complain that she beats you over the head with it. Nonetheless, I found the story extremely effective and also think I would've benefited had I read it in school. I love the narrative voice that Toni Cade Bambara implements – in the true tradition of Zora Neale Hurston, she opts for a very relaxed and informal tone, not caring about standard English but rather immortalising how these group of Black kids talk. And that means showing their rudeness and crassness as well as their more vulnerable and tender moments.
"The Lesson" is an outstanding story that feels a lot more realistic and authentic than the stuff one usually reads. "Ain't nobody gonna beat me at nuthin." – you tell 'em, Sylvia, you tell 'em!...more
Danez Smith is my favorite contemporary poet. Everything they publish, I preorder and then read. After two years of artistic silence, they finally camDanez Smith is my favorite contemporary poet. Everything they publish, I preorder and then read. After two years of artistic silence, they finally came out with their newest poetry collection, Bluff, in August of this year (2024). I loved Bluff a lot and gushed about its rawness and honesty in my review!
Those who've read Danez's newest poetry collection know that one of its poems, "Metro", was not printed in the book (due to formatting issues). We instead were blessed with a QR code that not only took us to an online version of "Metro" but to a whole PDF with twenty (!!) deleted poems of Danez's that didn't make it into Bluff. What??? Being the obsessed super fan that I am I, of course, immediately read the PDF but then went out of my way to have it printed and bound. I need everything they ever wrote in a physical format.
Though I understand why most of these poems didn't make it into the final version of Bluff, as they're significantly weaker, these deleted poems were a joy to read through nonetheless. Favorite poems include: "my deepest & most ashamed apologies to Assotto Saint", "my body is a country & i built a wall around it", "Ooooh, you look like", "Central High School" ,"nine means no in German", "[cancer's reveal was him in the tub]" and "Love poem (revision)".
My favorite quote comes from "[cancer's reveal was him in the tub]", the poem in which Danez both reckons with their grandpa's cancer journey as well as his domestic abusive nature: "he never beat anyone after that. / not even cancer. / my boy was so beautiful & kind / when losing, once lost."
And though many of the poems feel less polished than the ones from the final version of Bluff, Danez's poetic voice shines through through all of them. They just fucking rock, and I would recognize their poetry any time, any place. I just love it that much!...more
Toni's swan song... don't talk to me, I'm emotional. The fact that she wrote this book in her 80s (what the hell?) makes me so soft? I can barely imagToni's swan song... don't talk to me, I'm emotional. The fact that she wrote this book in her 80s (what the hell?) makes me so soft? I can barely imagine cooking a meal at 80, yet here she is teaching us young ones how it's really done. Toni was a once-in-a-lifetime artist. My forever favorite. My elder, my elder. <3...more
Jede meiner Rezensionen zu bell hooks beginne ich damit, dass ich eigentlich kein Interesse (mehr) an bell hooks' Werk habe. Aber die Landeszentrale fJede meiner Rezensionen zu bell hooks beginne ich damit, dass ich eigentlich kein Interesse (mehr) an bell hooks' Werk habe. Aber die Landeszentrale für politische Bildung Berlin hört einfach nicht auf, ihre Bücher in ihren Katalog aufzunehmen und zu einem kostenlosen bell hooks-Buch kann ich dann auch nicht nein sagen. Ihre Bücher, die sich mit den alltäglichen Herausforderungen des Lehrens und Lernens in Schule und Universität beschäftigen, finde ich auf jeden Fall um einiges besser als die Werke, die sich mit Feminismus, Gender und Sexualität auseinandersetzen. Daher war ich bei diesem Buch eigentlich guter Dinge und wurde auch nicht wirklich enttäuscht.
In Kritisch denken lernen, welches der dritte und letzte Teil von hooks' Pädagogikbüchern bildet, antwortet sie in 32 kurzen und leicht verständlich geschriebenen Essays auf jene Fragen, die sie nach der Veröffentlichung der zwei Vorgängerbände—Die Welt verändern lernen und Gemeinschaft leben lernen—erreicht haben.
Die Themen sind vielfältig und breit gefächert: Ist vernünftiger Unterricht auch in großen Lerngruppen möglich? Was können Schüler*innen und Studierende gegen einen langweiligen Unterricht tun? Wie können Schwarze weibliche Lehrende eine positive Autorität im Hörsaal aufrechterhalten, ohne durch die Brille negativer rassistischer und sexistischer Stereotypen gesehen zu werden? Kann Humor beim Lernen dienlich sein? Und wie soll eine Lehrperson mit Tränen im Klassenzimmer umgehen?
Ich habe mir schon lange ein praxisorientiertes Buch, das sich an Lehrpersonen richtet, gewünscht. Leider finde ich hooks' Antworten auf diese Fragen oft zu wage und überhaupt nicht praxisnah, was wirklich schade ist. Ein Buch wie dieses hätte sich sehr gut dazu geeignet, mal aus dem Nähkästchen zu plaudern und auf echte Erfahrungen und Beispiele aus der eigenen Unterrichtspraxis einzugehen. Ich will hooks nicht absprechen, dass sie dies nicht hin und wieder in diesem Buch tut, aber sie verliert sich oft in theoretischen Ausflügen, die es wirklich nicht gebraucht hätte.
Für hooks ist Bildung der sicherste Weg zur Freiheit. Doch diesen Weg zu beschreiten, ist für Lernende nicht so leicht wie es klingen mag. Rassismus, Sexismus, Klassismus (...you name it) sind in Bildungseinrichtungen systemisch und versperren den Weg zur Freiheit—für alle Lernenden, auch diejenigen, die nicht von diesen -ismen betroffen sind.
Das Buch wurde 2009 geschrieben und hooks führt an, dass "rassistische Segregation" wieder der Normalfall an US-amerikanischen Schulen wird. Die Schulen des Landes seien wieder zunehmend nach Race und Klasse getrennt. Dieser Trend wird auch in fiktiven Werken afro-amerikanischer Autor*innen aufgegriffen, wie bspw. in Paul Beattys brillanten Roman The Sellout. hooks reflektiert über ihre eigenen Lernerfahrungen als Schülerin und Studentin und darüber, dass sie sich ihren Schwarzen Literaturkanon selbst erschließen musste, da Schwarzen Autor*innen in ihrem Unterricht kein Raum gegeben wurde. Die Werke von James Weldon Johnson, Langston Hughes, Georgia Douglas Johnson u.n.v.m. musste sie auf eigene Faust finden.
Im vierten und fünften Essay—"Dekolonisierung" und "Integrität"—geht hooks nochmal explizit auf die Bildungshürden in kolonisierten Ländern ein. Denn sollte Bildung ja eigentlich der Weg zur Freiheit sein, wurde sie hier am übelsten von den Kolonisatoren missbraucht: "Bildung war immer ein Werkzeug der Kolonialisierung, das dazu diente, die Lernenden zu Ergebenheit gegenüber den herrschenden Verhältnissen zu erziehen." Sie führt führende Denker des Postkolonialismus an—Albert Memmi, Frantz Fanon, Walter Rodney, Amílcar Cabral, Léopold Sédar Senghor—, was mich positiv überrascht hat, da hooks in anderen Werken oft in eine "one-woman-show" verfällt und anderen Denker*innen kaum Platz eingeräumt wird.
Als Professorin weiß hooks jedoch auch, dass der Weg zur Freiheit nicht nur aufgrund von Diskrimierung erschwert wird, manchmal sind es die Lernenden selbst, die sich gegen Bildung stellen. hooks stellt fest: "Tatsächlich sträuben sich die meisten Studierenden gegen den Prozess des kritischen Denkens: sie fühlen sich wohler, wenn sie beim Lernen passiv bleiben können." Und später: "[Lernende] haben oft kein Bedürfnis, ihr Wissen dauerhaft zu bewahren, es hat ja schließlich seinen Zweck erfüllt, nämlich den in der Prüfung gestellten Anforderungen zu genügen." Dies sind zwei Beobachtungen, die ich teile. Doch auch hier ist die Verantwortung zweigeteilt. Natürlich sollte man an die Eigenverantwortung der Lernenden appellieren, vor allem wenn wir uns im universitären Kontext befinden und die Lernenden erwachsen sind, aber der Fehler liegt natürlich auch im System: alles in unserem Bildungssystem ist auf Bestehen und gute Noten ausgelegt. Ich selbst wurde selten während meiner Bildungslaufbahn dazu animiert, kritisch und eigenständig zu denken. Es ging immer nur darum, Tests und Klassenarbeiten mit Einsen abzuschließen.
hooks schreibt: "Wenn eine Lehrperson der grenzenlosen Fantasie im Unterricht freien Lauf lässt, dann erweitert sich der Spielraum für transformative Lernen." Doch es ist genau dieses transformative Lernen, das in unserem Bildungssystem oft zu kurz kommt. Leider zeigt hooks keine konkreten Wege auf, wie man als Lehrperson transformatives Lernen fördern kann.
Eine Offenbarung, die ich sehr wertvoll fand, ist, dass hooks zugibt: "in meinen dunkelsten Stunden, als ich mich innerhalb der akademischen Institutionen systematisch angegriffen fühlte, als ich glaube, dass meine einzige Hoffnung zu überleben und gesund zu bleiben, darin bestand, der Wissenschaft den Rücken zu kehren"—auch dies ist eine Erfahrung, die ich als Schwarze Person in primär weißen Bildungsräumen und -institutionen oft hatte.
Ich möchte noch auf ein paar konkrete Beispiele eingehen, die mich wirklich gestört haben. Es handelt sich vor allem um Kapitel 25 und 26: "Spiritualität" und "Berührung". (Nobody is surprised.)
Ich möchte vorweg sagen, dass bell hooks und ich einen ganz anderen Zugang und Ansatz zu Spiritualität haben. Demnach ist meine Meinung hier vielleicht ein bisschen biased, aber einige Aussagen, die sie trifft, finde ich potentiell gefährlich und möchte daher dagegen anreden.
Zur "Freundschaft" zwischen Lehrperson und einzelnen Lernenden schreibt hooks: "…bei aller Verbundenheit, die vielleicht entsteht—es bleibt eine hierarchische Beziehung." Und ich dachte mir erstmal, wow, das ist ja wirklich progressiv für sie und total anders als das, was sie noch im ersten Band geschrieben hat. Aber nein, auf diesen richtigen und wichtigen Satz folgen Relativierungen und Falschaussagen. Here's a best of of the bullshit:
• "Wenn Lehrende verehrt, wirklich bewundert und respektiert werden, verbessert sich unsere Fähigkeit zu lehren und zu lernen." — SAYS WHO? Respekt ist unabdingbar und Bewunderung in einem gewissen Maß vielleicht auch noch in Ordnung, aber Verehrung?? WTF? Warum sollte irgendwer seine Lehrperson verehren? I think not.
• "Kritisches Denken im Unterricht ist eine Möglichkeit, ein höheres Bewusstsein zu kultivieren. Es versetzt die Lernenden in die Lage, die wechselseitige Verbundenheit allen Lebens besser zu erkennen und bringt sie auf diese Weise mit dem Heiligen in Kontakt. Sie werden zu einem bewussten Prozess der Achtsamkeit und des Gewahrseins befähigt." I don't know about you, aber ich war noch nie in meinem Leben "mit dem Heiligen in Kontakt", and I think that's a good thing. Wie gesagt, es ist einfach eine Form von Spiritualität, mit der ich ja mal so gar nichts anfangen kann. Aber wie gesagt, sowas kann ich noch tolerieren, im Gegensatz zu Bullshit wie diesem: "Die Präsenz von Eros im Unterricht eröffnet uns den Zugang zum Heiligen." *KOTZ, KOTZ, KOTZ*
• "Wenn sich die Sinnlichkeit des Eros im Unterricht in Richtung Sexualität bewegt, führt dies zu Chaos und Unfrieden." Nein, bestie, es führt zu Missbrauch. Let's not sugarcoat it.
• "Es ist wichtig, wachsam zu sein gegenüber einem Machtmissbrauch, bei dem die Erotik zu einem Terrain der Ausbeutung wird. Doch ebenso wichtig ist es, den Raum zu erkennen, in dem erotische Interaktion befähigend wirkt und positive Veränderungen herbeiführt." — Ich bin so maximal verwirrt. Wie kann das zweite EBENSO WICHTIG sein wie wachsam gegenüber Machtmissbrauch zu sein?? Make it make sense?? Mal ganz davon abgesehen, dass es im Unterricht einfach keinen Raum für erotische Interaktion geben darf.
• "Stellt euch sich vor, dass ein*e Professor*in ‘erregt’ ist, weil mehrere außergewöhnliche Studierende am Kurs teilnehmen und deren Anwesenheit einfach die Lernleidenschaft aller entfacht; das ist die Energie, die zu einer leidenschaftlichen Pädagogik führen kann, die sich positiv auf alle auswirkt." NO, NO, NO. Es ist einfach mega uncomfortable diese Zitate von hooks zu lesen.
Zwei weitere (kleinere Kritikpunkte): 1. Kapitel 27 bis 30 haben überhaupt nichts mit Lehre zu tun und kommen sehr willkürlich daher. Und 2. schreibt hooks: "Bücher am Bildschirm zu lesen kann nie dasselbe sein, wie ein Buch in der Hand zu halten" — OKAY BOOMER.
Aber da ich ja so 'ne nette Maus bin, möchte ich die Rezension mit ein paar Beobachtungen und Zitaten schließen, die ich wirklich gut fand:
• "...dass fiktionale Werke nicht unbedingt immer den herrschenden Verhältnissen oder der Realität entsprechen müssen, und das tun sie in der Regel auch nicht. Umso kritischer müssen Leser*innen sein, wenn Figuren starke Vorurteile und Hass gegenüber einer bestimmten Gruppe äußern." – sehe ich genauso! Viel zu oft ruhen sich Autor*innen darauf aus, Vorurteile zu perpetuieren unter dem Deckmantel der Fiktion and it's fucking bullshit. Do better.
• "Als Lehrende sind wir Brennpunkt eines kollektiven Blicks, bevor überhaupt Worte gesprochen werden." => literally der einzige gute Satz aus ihrem Kapitel "Berührung"
• In "Lernen als prophetische Berufung" (...kleiner hat sich's auch nicht), schreibt hooks: "Wenn mich Studierende fragen, was ich mir am meisten von ihnen wünsche, sage ich ihnen, dass es nicht meine Absicht ist, sie zu ‘kleinen bell hooks’ zu machen. Sie müssen nicht so denken wie ich. Vielmehr wünsche ich mir, dass sie lernen, kritisch zu denken, um sich selbst zu verwirklichen und selbstbestimmt zu leben." Und das finde ich wirklich toll. Man hat ja oft den Eindruck, dass sie etwas selbstverliebt ist und denkt, sie sei die Einzige, die die Weisheit mit dem Löffel gefressen hat, aber ich kaufe ihr dieses Zitat wirklich ab, und ich kann mir auch gut vorstellen, dass es viele Studierende gibt, die viel aus ihren Vorlesungen und Seminaren gezogen haben.
Im letzten Kapitel appelliert hooks nochmal an unsere Selbstverantwortung: "Wenn wir uns entschließen, kritisch denkenden Menschen zu werden, treffen wir bereits eine Entscheidung, die uns in Opposition zu jedem Bildungssystem oder Kulturverständnis stellt, das uns zu passiven Empfänger*innen von Wissen machen will." Yes. Yes. Yes.
Und wie immer schließe ich meine hooks-Rezension mit folgendem Gedanken: Last hooks for now. Unless the Landeszentrale decides to stock another of her books—which will likely happen, lmao. I'm such a mess....more
Ich habe im September 2024 das "What would James Baldwin do?"-Festival hier in Berlin-Wannsee besucht. Das Festival hat mich sehr geprägt und auch MonIch habe im September 2024 das "What would James Baldwin do?"-Festival hier in Berlin-Wannsee besucht. Das Festival hat mich sehr geprägt und auch Monate später, denke ich oft über die Denkanstöße nach, die während der Podiumsdiskussionen gesetzt wurden. Das absolute Highlight des Festivals war für mich Raphaëlle Reds Eröffnungsrede "Die Liebe Diesmal". Ich war so eingenommen von ihrer Präsenz, ihrem Charme, ihren Worten, dass ich mich auf der Stelle intellektuell in sie und ihre Worte verliebte. Mir war klar, dass ich ihren Debütroman sofort bestellen und lesen würde.
Ich hatte zunächst überlegt, das Debüt in der 2024 neu erschienen deutschen Übersetzung zu lesen, entschied mich das letztlich für das französische Original, weil ich gerne mehr auf Französisch lesen möchte. Im Nachhinein weiß ich nicht, ob das wirklich eine gute Entscheidung war. Adikou ist ein total verworrener Roman, mit wenig Handlung und einer einzigartigen Erzählstimme (wobei über den ganzen Roman hinweg überhaupt nicht klar, wer diesen überhaupt erzählt—handelt es sich hier um eine echte Person wie eine Schwester oder Freundin Adikous oder um ein Gedankengespinst, eine Traumfigur oder Alter Ego?), und ich hatte echt Mühe, ihm auf Französisch zu folgen. Da aber auch die Rezeption des Romans im deutschsprachigen Raum eher nur lauwarm ausfällt, kann ich mir durchaus vorstellen, dass ich auch auf Deutsch ähnliche Probleme gehabt hätte.
Don't get me wrong, Raphaëlle Red kann wirklich schön schreiben. Es gab hier einige Sätze, die ich mir angestrichen habe. Sie findet sehr schöne Bilder, schafft es einiges sehr genau auf den Punkt zu bringen. Da Raphaëlle Red, ihre Protagonistin Adikou und ich einiges gemeinsam haben (mixed girls, die im weißen Europa aufwachsen), konnte ich viele der geschilderten Erfahrungen nachempfinden—natürlich nicht alles, aber einiges.
"Et comme une migration quand je me déplace je m'étends."
In Adikou verhandelt Raphaëlle Red Fragen von Zugehörigkeit und Ausgrenzung. Wo gehören wir hin? Wo gehört Adikou hin, die zwischen den Stühlen (Frankreich & Togo und Schwarz & weiß) steht? Gefrustet von den Rassismuserfahrungen, die sie in Frankreich macht, und vom Gefühl geplagt, nirgendwo dazu zu gehören, macht sie sich auf die Reise in die Heimat ihres Vaters auf, und erhofft sich dort Antworten. Adikou ist wütend, ratlos, ...lost. Sie sucht Halt in ihrem Leben, eine Person, die ihre Wut teilt.
In Frankreich schläft sie mit weißen Männer, die sie exotisieren und objektifizieren. Raphaëlle Reds Schilderrungen von interracial Sex und interracial Beziehungen sind sehr intensiv. Adikou fühlt sich erniedrigt und trotzdem begehrt. Es ist ein ständiger Spagat zwischen Lust und Abscheu.
Mich verlässt das Gefühl nicht, das Adikou als Roman nicht das Bestreben darstellt, die Wahrheit zu sagen, sondern das Bestreben, etwas Wahres zu sagen. Raphaëlle Red versucht, zu einem wahren Kern durchzudringen. Und es gelingt ihr auch teilweise, aber zu oft ist die Erzählstruktur zu verworren, Adikous Charakter zu schwammig, die Handlung zu wenig vorhanden, als dass man sich als Leser*in wirklich in diesen Roman fallen lassen könnte. Raphaëlle Red bleibt eine spannende Autorin für mich—dafür finde ich sie als Person auch einfach zu cool, als dass es nicht so sein könnte—und ich bin gespannt, was sie so als nächstes schreiben wird!...more