We Live, We Pen

by Dasan Ahanu

It’s amazing to think about how much attention poets pay to their surroundings. Receptors glued to life hoping to find that next inspiration. Given a responsibility to take life’s beautiful moments and also make them eloquent. Poets do this with moments that are as strikingly gorgeous as they are gruesome. It’s both a gift and a curse, as Jay-Z would say. Writers have laid this blueprint since ink first touched the page. Now I to am a watcher (that was for the Jay fans) hoping that what I see and what I write is both vivid and descriptive. It is an inherent responsibility to be accountable to the life that shapes and binds us.

This sense of social responsibility guides many African American poets today. A blessing and a burden that follows the tradition of the Griot, captures the passion of the Harlem Renaissance, and thrives with the intensity of the Black Arts Movement (BAM). It can be tough to dedicating yourself to a life of artistry that offers not even the illusion of grandeur. There are no Maybach dreams, no mansions, no iced out quills. Only the opportunity to say what needs to be said, possibly earn enough to pay the bills, and plant seeds of wisdom in minds desperate for growth. We sometimes take the power of words for granted and often do the same with our favorite wordsmiths. It isn’t until something occurs that shows us the need for a rebellious voice do we recognize how important these urban contemporary soothsayers are.

Rudyard Kipling, poet and novelist once said, “If you can keep your wits about you while all others are losing theirs, and blaming you…The world will be yours and everything in it, what's more, you'll be a man, my son.” Patriarchal overtone aside, this quote speaks volumes about the state of poets today. As poets, we are often chastised for our commentary, but necessary for those very same words. We saw it with the Black Mountain Poets of North Carolina and the Beats of New York and California. Literary dissidents who chose to set aside traditional method for a greater expression. The energy of Allen Ginsberg and Gary Snyder is also found in Gwendolyn Brooks and Amiri Baraka. Both Brooks and Baraka were proponents of the BAM and writers who gave the page our communities, echoing the struggles being faced at home and globally. We find our legacy of purpose there. We find the muse for our penmanship there.

Of course I know this sounds more like sentimental rambling than rational argument. That is until you find yourself where I was one morning. I was at the Post Office sending off copies of my album to be reviewed (shameless plug). In front of me was an African American man, mid to late thirties, in a sharp business suit. He went up to the counter and asked for a large quantity of American Flag stamps. Now I know I shouldn’t have been in his business, but I am poet and I couldn’t help but overhear the transaction. If I hadn’t this piece would have never come to fruition. Now the postal worker behind the counter told him that she only had enough Ella Fitzgerald stamps. Special editions left over from Black History Month. She did not have enough of the American Flag stamps. He seemed to think hard about this while I stood there wondering why it would be such and issue. She asked him if he wanted the Ella stamps and he said no. Seeing his dismay she proceeded to look for more flag stamps until she gathered the amount he needed.

That sat with me for a while. What made him turn those down? Was it personal or business? When you realize that Ella was one of the foremost jazz vocalists of hers or anyone’s time and a contributor to the canon of music known as the Great American Songbook, why wouldn’t you want an Ella stamp? Then I thought about the possibility of what it might say to whomever he was mailing his correspondence. Would it carry a message contrary to what this man wanted to convey? Was this a conscious or unconscious decision he made that day. Now you may think I am taking something simple and blowing it out of proportion, but I ask you to think about it for just a second. Am I? Or am I recognizing the circumstances that lead to the words we pen on paper and fashion the impact our observations have?

Robert Hayden, the once Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress gave a speech where he said that black poets should be looked at as poets first if that is what we are. He wanted his work to have a human impact outside of the confines of race, ethnicity, and politics. It is a wonderful notion except for the fact that this world will not let me outside the confines of race, ethnicity, and politics. Trapped in this cell of modern society, my only recourse is to tunnel my way to freedom with this Bic pen and guide other hearts and minds past these media influenced walls. We must celebrate our poets. Encourage their unrelenting passion for chronicling harsh realities. Support their undying loyalty to illuminating our accomplishments and obstacles. Let’s take this time to appreciate the wordsmiths that give voice to your spirits. Articulate rebels who pen passion and will wisdom. Matter of fact, play some Ella, read your favorite poem, and let’s imagine what it would be like to be truly free.

Dasan Ahanu is an activist, poet, writer, songwriter, and performance artist lving in Durham, NC. He is an artist in residence at the Hayti Heritage Center in Durham and St. Augustine’s College in Raleigh.