1994 Conference Welcome
FURIOUS FLOWER POETRY CONFERENCE
Occasion & Welcome Speech
Thursday, September 29, 1994
By Joanne V. Gabbin
"The time
cracks into furious flower. Lifts its face
all unashamed. And sways in
wicked grace."
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.


