These
magnificent lines from Gwendolyn Brooks' poem "Second Sermon on the Warplan"
provide the leitmotif for this conference. The last forty years have
witnessed a furious flowering of black poetry in this country. Contemporary
African-American poets, with a legacy of liberation dating back to the 18th
century have been creators of social values as they envisioned a world of
justice and equality and eyed the prizes intended for every individual in
America. They have railed against the status quo and protested attitudes
and institutions that stood to impede the civil rights movement that changed
the nature of American society.
Many of
the poets here in this auditorium have given voice to the civil rights struggle
of the 60's and 70's and have continued to cry in the wilderness of America
during the 80's and 90's. For example, in the mid sixties, the quiet
of the American University was shattered by the demands of newly radicalized
students for black student recruitment, scholarships and fellowships, black
dormitories and student unions, the recruitment of black faculty and most
of all the inclusion of black courses in the curriculum. In the vanguard
of this movement for Black studies were many of the poets who will speak at
this conference. And still more us here have been the beneficiaries
of their efforts. They have not only transformed society but they have
reflected that transformation in their lines. Sometimes quietly and
sometimes with raucous abandon, they have cultivated their poetry, their terrible
and beauty rage in the service of humankind.
This conference
is dedicated to Gwendolyn Brooks, 1994 Jefferson Lecturer, Poet Laureate of
Illinois for 25 years, the first black woman to win the Pulitzer Prize for
her poetry in 1950. We honor her with this dedication because of her
prophetic, poetic voice that is urgent, unashamed, graceful, redeeming and
radical. She tells us even amid the loneliness and fear of these unsettling
times, that we "must live and conduct [our] blooming in the noise and whip
of the whirlwind."
Certainly
there is no better time for such a voice. As Sheldon Hackney, Chairman
of the National Endowment for the Humanities said back in June of this year,
"there is a need for a national conversation in which Americans talk about
identity, values, and diversity. From South Central Los Angeles to Crown
Heights, from Libertyville to recent assassinations on the Brooklyn Bridge,
tensions among racial and ethnic groups in the United States are in volatile
condition." (The Washington Post, June 26, 1994, C1, Can We Talk, by Russell
Jacoby.) New media report an epidemic of violence that is gripping our
country. Violence has invaded every sanctuary where we expected safety.
Chronic disease and AIDS are resulting in more casualties than combined modern
wars and hopelessness, perhaps the most virulent and relentless intruder,
has taken up residence in our homes, our minds, and our very sense of being.
Gwendolyn
Brooks is one of many poets who have dedicated their talent and their vision
to the renewal of hope and the salvage of our society. And several of
them such as Sonia Sanchez, Nikki Giovanni, Haki Madhubuti, Michael Harper,
Sam Allen, Alvin Aubert, and Eugene Redmond are part of this conference.
In fact more than 30 major poets and critics have come together to read their
poems, talk about new approaches to African -American poetry, begin the serious
business of writing a literary history of the poetic outpouring over the last
four decades, and make the necessary connections with the cultural and folk
traditions that ever inform and enrich it. They have been joined by
other distinguished writers, educators, scholars, students and lovers of literature,
making this the largest gathering of Black poets and critics at any conference
since the late 1960's and the only conference in my memory that has been devoted
entirely to African-American poetry.
I hope
that you, as participants, have come to this conference, as David Llorens
said of the historic Fisk Conference in 1967, "anticipating new ideas, pertinent
criticisms, enhanced perspective--a touch of the inexplicable as well as the
profound." Llorens goes on to say, "but one also hopes for that person
who will rise to the occasion and provide the emotional stimulus that transforms
writers' conferences into good old down home Baptist conventions--for at least
a little while." (Kent, A Life of Gwendolyn Brooks, p.189.) Judging
from our list of participants and the excitement that has been generated for
this conference, I know that the ground is fertile for a diversity of ideas,
perceptions, criticisms and that there is every chance for clashes of consciousness
and cultural celebrations.
It is
appropriate that this conference is being held here at James Madison University
in Harrisonburg, Virginia. We have at JMU a community in love with poetry.
I have not taught anywhere that there is more enthusiasm generated by a poetry
reading. Certainly, too, this University encourages the understanding
and appreciation of cultural diversity which this conference represents.
Moreover, we are in Virginia, a state of firsts. The first Africans
were brought here as indentured servants and established the Jamestown settlement
375 years ago. Ironically, just 10 miles away the first meeting of the
oldest legislative body in continuous existence in the Americas occurred that
year. Virginia led all other states in black population during the antebellum
period. Virginia is the first state of resistance and rebellion--remember
Gabriel Prasser's revolt in 1800 and Nat Turner's insurrection in 1831.
And need I say that Virginia is the first state to elect a Black governor
in the person of Douglas Wilder.
Finally,
I see a lot of good coming out of this conference. It will make a significant
contribution to scholarship on African-American poetry and increase public
understanding of its impact in American literature and culture. We plan
a video documentary that JMU's WVPT will produce to trace the major trends
in African-American poetry. We plan a series of videotaped interviews
between the participating poets and critics which will be used as education
guides for teachers in high school and colleges. I also hope to collect
the scholarly articles that will come out of this conference for publication
and thus stimulate greater scholarly and critical exploration of the field.
But certainly
resonating at a deeper level, we need this conference because we need a poem.
With youth
killing other youth in our streets, we need a Sanchez poem crying for a purifying
fire that will consume the sectionalism and hatred that threaten self-imposed
genocide.
We need
a poem.
With gun
boats poised to shove democracy down black throats even if it kills them,
we need a Eugene Redmond poem assailing our nostrils with the stench of inanities
of war.
We need
a poem.
While
some men denigrate women and call us out of our name, we need a Mari Evans
exclaiming "I am a Black
Women
Strong
beyond all definition
Impervious
We
need a poem.
With
children coming home to drug-infested parents and abuse and indifference,
we need in Gwendolyn Brook's poem celebrating innocence and healing, and
love.
We need
a poem.
As we
run this danger course as "we walk the way of the new world," we need a
Haki poem, urging caution, health, building, learning, teaching, striving,
struggling.
We need
a poem.
We need
a poem.
We need
a poem.
Thank
you all for coming.