Wednesday, April 30, 2008


Unarmed people shot at, abused or killed by NYPD. Find the original at NYTimes.com
Eleanor Bumpers
Abner Louima
Antoine Reid
Amadou Diallo
Patrick Dorismond
Ousmane Zongo
Timothy Stansbury, Jr.
Sean Bell
And, thanks R.H. for adding writer Henry Dumas (age 33), shot and killed by NYC Transit Police in 1968, in a case of 'Mistaken Identity'.

Monday, April 28, 2008

This happens to me sometimes. My worlds collide. I remember when I lived in Boston YEARS ago, one Saturday morning, I got on the T - the red line - to ride into town and five people from five different parts of my life were in the same car. I just rode the T all the way to South Station, got on a train and went to New York for the rest of the weekend. I was young, couldn't handle the collision. Needed the anonymity of the Big A.P.P.L.

But yesterday was different. I flew to Louisville for a one day meeting at the Kentucky Foundation for Women, which is doing AMAZING work in Kentucky and supporting incredible people doing AMAZING work. When I got in the car, who was there in the front seat but Lauren Austin - who I met a year ago to the day at the Atlantic Center for the Arts where she's the Community Artist in Residence. I was excited to see her, as meeting her was a turning point during my stay at the residency and it was joyful to learn about her work. My host (who happens to be cousins with my friend here in Austin, K.G. aka Trevor - yeah!! so excited to meet your incredible family) dropped me off at the lovely Columbine B & B. When I stepped in the door of this beautiful place, Rich takes one look at me and says, "Didn't you live in Jamaica Plain?" All the while, I'm trying to locate him and then we REALIZE we know each other from 10 years ago - when his partner was my supervisor (Hey Bob :)!!!

I about fell out. But then I didn't. Because I'm older now and these kinds of things just don't surprise me anymore. But they do move me. And it was wonderful to see people who I have been moved by, or who are close to people I love or who I have kind feelings for. It's awesome.

And, I got to meet new beautiful people, too - like Sue Massek of the Reel World String Band - who shared with me the joy of Paula Nelson's music and the fact of her great grandfather's banjo.

Life holds deep surprises sometimes. Who would have thought I'd be a Dominican American girl living in Texas, running into folks in Louisville, Kentucky.

It's beautiful, really.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008


I can't believe almost a month has passed since I last posted. Time is flying this spring' the cardinals and herons are flying with it.

Aime Cesaire has passed. Last week, in fact. Here's a news clipping about it:

Aime Cesaire, voice of French Black pride, dies

Thu 17 Apr 2008, 13:18 GMT

By Astrid Wendlandt

PARIS (Reuters) - French Caribbean poet Aime Cesaire, founding father of the "negritude" movement that celebrated black consciousness, died in his native Martinique, France's Ministry of Culture said on Thursday.
Cesaire, 94, who was mayor of the island's main city Fort-de-France for more than half a century, was admitted to hospital last week suffering from heart and other problems.

His writings offered insight into how France imposed its culture on its citizens of different origins in the early part of the 20th Century. The theme still resonates in French politics today, as the country continues to struggle to integrate many of its residents of African and North African origin.

In 2005, Cesaire refused to meet then French Interior Minister Nicolas Sarkozy (now French president) over concerns that Sarkozy's conservative UMP party had pushed for a law which proposed to recognise the positive legacy of French colonial rule. The law was eventually repealed.

Cesaire and African intellectual Leopold Senghor -- later president of Senegal -- founded "The Black Student" in 1934, a journal that encouraged people to develop black identity.

ANTI-COLONIAL VOICE IN THE 1960s

The Caribbean writer rose to fame with his "Notebook of a Return to the Native Land", written in the late 1930s, in which he says "my negritude is neither tower nor cathedral, it plunges into the red flesh of the soil."

His poems expressed the degradation of black people in the Caribbean and describe the rediscovery of an African sense of self. In his "Discourse on Colonialism" , first published in 1950, Cesaire compared the relationship between the coloniser and colonised with the Nazis and their victims.

He was a mentor to fellow Martinican author Frantz Fanon, and their anti-colonial writings were a major influence in the heady intellectual climate of the 1960s and 1970s in France. The negritude movement was a counterpart to the Black Pride movement in the United States, though it has been criticised for not being radical enough. Cesaire was also a friend of the French surrealist poet Andre Breton who had encouraged him to become a major voice of Surrealism. Cesaire's anti-colonial rhetoric did not prevent him from having a long-lasting political career.

After becoming mayor of Fort-de-France in 1945 at the age of 32, he was elected deputy of parliament a year later, a post he held until the early 1990s.

A graduate of the prestigious French Ecole Normale Superieure -- unusual for a black Martinican in the 1930s -- he remained a member of the French communist party until the Soviet Hungarian repression of 1956. Cesaire was born in 1913 in the small town of Basse-Pointe in Martinique. He married Suzanne Roussi in 1937, a gifted writer in her own right, with whom he had six children.


Just FYI, Martinique is still a French colony (excuse me, "department"), along with Guadalupe, Reunion, and French Guiana (different from "les collectivites", which include: French Polynesia, New Caledonia, San Martin, Saint Barthelemy, Saint Pierre, Wallace and Fortuna, Miquelon and Mayotte).

I had the honor to meet Aime Cesaire in 1995, when I was working in the Dominican Republic. He was visiting, along with Raphael Confiant, and speaking as part of a conference on negritude and creolite in the Caribbean. At 19, I was too shy to have a real conversation with him, but I remember how he handled the audience with such deep, loving grace. Especially when the members in the audience began to spew out Dominican discourse on race ideology. He responded with the attitude that said, "Brother, you may question your own Blackness, but I know you're Black, and because I know you're Black, I will love you and because I love you, I will ask you to be more than this."

A la prochaine, Aime.