Why "The Remedy" Blog?

If the title and the content of the poem "The Remedy, or, Nigger's a Book", which is a piece of art, offends you....that's good.

Let's have a conversation."

If the work offends you it may be a sign that you are awake: awake to hatred, racism, free speech, responsible speech, or a myriad of subjects and issues that this poem raises for you.

If you are my age, or read the classic book in middle school in recent years, as my children did, you may also know that Nigger,  is actually a famous autobiography by the great American, Dick Gregory.

It is also the title of a 2002 book written by Harvard Law School Professor, Randall Kennedy.

This blog is a public forum (yet with no specific names mentioned) for two specific things:

1. A place where the author of the poem at hand presents it for scrutiny, enjoyment, derision, response, or suggestions.

2. A place where the specific historical issues, books, documents, thoughts, poems, people and experiences the poem at hand was "based" on can be examined.

Background:

The background for the blog was a very charged, tense and uncomfortable situation that resulted when the author of the poem read it on an historic platform, before his peers, all of whom had spent an exhilarating week talking about what we all loved: Poetry, poems, the craft of poetry, poets, and, well, life, and the marvelous opportunities for expression, enlightenment, anger, discomfort, but most of all, pleasure, that arises from the soil and sea of Poetry that we move and live in.

What ensued during and after the community reading was, to my mind, authentic, necessary, troubling, uncomfortable, and appreciated.

Because the public reading of the poem caused a "bomb" as one person described it, and because the poet (that's me) was criticized for presenting such an obviously "unfinished" poem, and because an honorable and sincere man we had all come to appreciate that week had the fortitude to stand up in the middle of the reading and object to the poem, and because the leaders of the workshop handled the potentially explosive situation in probably the best way they could ("Ok, 5-minutes smoke break!", followed with a request, that at the end of the reading we all sit in a circle and use the experience as a teaching and reflective moment), because my poem did greatly offend some of the people in the community, because art and life and beauty and community are so vital to the health of ourselves and our common world, I have posted this blog to provide a place for those present that evening, as well as others, to learn more about the historical precedents this poem was based on, and to feel free to express themselves.

Because I also have an ego and don't at this point agree with those who found fault with this poem, as a poem, after hearing it only once, without having had the opportunity to read it, here it is. If you hate it or think it doesn't work, based on the poetics, and after understanding the specific literary allusions and historical incidents, then do me the favor of a peer and let me know why and feel free to make suggestions. Then feel free to point out examples of poems that have addressed the important topics of eugenics, abortion, racism, Hitler, and Darwin, that DO work. Best yet, write one yourself.

Why the Title "The Remedy"?

The first two words of the title, "The Remedy", come directly from the biology textbook that was at the center of the 1925 Scopes Trial in Tennessee. Since it was probably one of the most-famous trials in American history, the actual epigram, with the date of 1914, immediately relates the poem to an historical time period.

Here is the pertinent quote, lifted from a section:

The Remedy. -- If such people were lower animals, we would probably kill them off to prevent them from spreading. Humanity will not allow this, but we do have the remedy of separating the sexes in asylums or other places and in various ways preventing intermarriage and the possibilities of perpetuating such a low and degenerate race. Remedies of this sort have been tried successfully in Europe and are now meeting with some success in this country.

 The majority of educated peolple in the US will have some familiarity with the trial, especially since the play "Inherent The Wind" is one of the most-produced in US history.

A poem relating to historical, cultural, and linguistic issues does not have to provide specific epigrams to help understand the work. Some do, some don't. 

It also places the first use of the word Nigger in a certain era.
 

Text of the Poem

Here is the link to the text of the poem:

The Remedy, or, Nigger's a Book

(Note: The version uploaded here was a revision made during the week-long workshop. The author has not had time to post the older drafts, so the reader can see the thought process and decisions made about the lines in the poem.

Also, the text options on this blogging platform have not allowed me to post the poem in the format that it was meant to be seen. Each new stanza was meant to go further towards the right margin than the last; in this way, the idea of "evolution" going from one stanza to the other was to be indicated.)

Black Is Beautiful : James Weldon Johnson

At the Grave of James Weldon Johnson

The middle section of "The Remedy" is the core of the poem, for the author. It is where the core meaning of the word and the historical reality of Nigger is expressed. And it is directly based and influenced by the famous poem "The Creation," by James Weldon Johnson.

Then God smiled,
And the light broke, 10
And the darkness rolled up on one side,
And the light stood shining on the other,
And God said: That's good!

from "The Remedy":

The original Niggas—

now they were black,

beautiful, dark, deep black.

And when God looked down

He’d break out in a smile

as wide as Heaven's rivers are deep.

Here original harkens back to the Creation, both the poem and the act, and it makes the explicit statement, echoing the well-known phrase from the 1960's "Black is Beautiful."

Dead Black People on the Stage

A few minutes after "The Remedy" was read, a disturbed member of the audience came to the podium and expressed his profound shock over the poem. One of the comments (paraphrase, from memory) was:

"There are dead black people on this stage."

He was 100% correct. The poem succeeded in this regard if that was his response.

And while it is clear from the context of the remark that he and I were not "seeing" (as a piece of art can allow "seeing") the same dead black people on stage, the poem does conjure them.

In the context of the poem, as it clearly makes comparisons between eugenics, Darwin, coons, Margaret Sanger (the founder of Planned Parenthood and a vocal advocate of eugenics), and books being burned (the result of Nazi philosophy), the burned niggers at the end of the poem evoke the aborted fetuses.

The number of aborted African-American babies is more than double the number of Jews who were eliminated in the Nazi's Final Solution.

Whether or not the immense pile of dead, black fetuses are merely tissue, without rights, or actual human beings, is not the point of the poem. But yes, "they" are there on stage, in history, in fact, in my country, and in my time.

Alveda King, a niece of Rev. Martin Luther King, said of Planned Parenthood, at a 2008 protest of the NAACP:

"It has led the way in eliminating African-Americans to the point where one quarter of the black population is now missing because of abortion. Planned Parenthood is anti-life and we are here to say enough is enough!"

...in Darwin's world / shit don't matter

The sudden change in the poem, from references to God smiling over the creation of people, thus pronouncing that Black is Beautiful, occurs when we read:

in Darwin’s world

shit don’t matter.

If the fittest

must survive,

Cull’n some dumb coons

is a positive good.

As killing Jews was a positive good in Nazi Germany, it follows that a society based on the same philosophy would have no problem killing "some dumb coons." 
 
From Darwin to Hitler: Evolutionary Ethics, Eugenics, and Racism in Germany was released in 2004 (paperback edition in 2006) with Palgrave Macmillan in New York, a major publisher of historical scholarship.
 
"Richard Weikart's outstanding book shows in sober and convincing detail how Darwinist thinkers in Germany had developed an amoral attitude to human society by the time of the First World War, in which the supposed good of the race was applied as the sole criterion of public policy and 'racial hygiene'. Without over-simplifying the lines that connected this body of thought to Hitler, he demonstrates with chilling clarity how policies such as infanticide, assisted suicide, marriage prohibitions and much else were being proposed for those considered racially or eugenically inferior by a variety of Darwinist writers and scientists, providing Hitler and the Nazis with a scientific justification for the policies they pursued once they came to power." -- Richard Evans, Professor of Modern History, University of Cambridge, and author of The Coming of the Third Reich

Burning Niggers and Verbal Violence?

Can a poem commit verbal violence?

If that poem has violent imagery and comments that are incarnating an actual historical, and ongoing violence, does that make the poem violent?

Clearly some people who heard the poem felt that way.

As the author, I think it is important to remember this is a poem, not a campaign speech. This hastily-put-together blog attempts to justify the poem as art, and art that the author is in fact proud of.

If the poem makes one feel attacked, well, maybe it has succeeded in conveying what the people "inside" the poem are feeling. If the images in the poem refer to actual dead people, and includes historical voices of those who might be glad that the people are dead, is that not a valid poem? Does that not happen in poems throughout history?

We should not confuse the voices in a poem with the voice or beliefs of the poet.

Towards the end of our group discussion -- where many very valuable and important points of view were discussed (and which I have not the time to include here: those who were there heard them), the person who had the integrity to stand up and publicly voice his problems with the poem, eventually said he would give the author the "benefit of the doubt"

I hope this blog, as incomplete as it is, earns that benefit of the doubt from those who listened to the poem, and to those who might read it or hear it in the future.

Do not criticize me for using the word Nigger (and niger, Negroes, Nigra, Black, and Niggas, all with distinct historical meanings, several of which pre-date the 19th-Century American development of usage).

I will gladly accept criticism regarding meter, form, image, clarity, assonance, alliteration, voice, and syntax.

I do not think a poet needs to explain their poems; however, I do regret not introducing the public reading of this poem. I think if I had said "This poem deals with issues of eugenics, racism, and abortion, and it uses language that most people would find offenseive" then people would have been warned, and perhaps not as bewildered and angered as to why a member of their community had just spoken the words.

For that lack of wisdom, I apologize. In hindsight, I regret not doing that. I am a saddened because I damaged new friendships, particularly with one of our instructors that week. In our meeting, and in the discomfort and context of the moment, I did not feel it was my place to "justify" the poem, but rather to simply express what I consider the core of the poem:

The original Niggas—

now they were black,

beautiful, dark, deep black.

Love and words expressing love are cheap. For me, to say I love someone in public is not a melodramtic statement, an attempt to evade responsibility for my words and actions, nor a sentimental vaguery. In the context of the discussion, it was a way to attempt to say I respect your actions of protest, I accept your reaction to my work, and I am very sorry I have offended you. And it was a way to acknowledge the discomfort many others felt over my choice of reading that particular poem, in that particular way.

I do not accept the idea that using the word Nigger in a poem is forbidden territory. I DO accept the idea that an artist must be responsible in his or her art. I do not accept the idea that a white person cannot write about "black" issues, as though some issues pertained only to one group of people, and not all people. The specific usage of each and every use of my words was backed up with historical research, as well as personal experience after having lived in the Bronx for ten years. I was not intentionally lighting verbal fires or making verbal assaults. I was intentionally using the language of social reality, and I was using it, as I hope this blog conveys, with intellectual rigor and artistic quality.

Once again, if that artistic quality was/is lacking, then I am eager to get to work and make poems that do reach a higher level of artistic integrity.

"Nigger" in African-American Poetry

From the online Ferris State University-related Jim Crow Museum blog "Nigger and Caricatures":

"Poetry by African Americans is also instructive, as one finds nigger used in black poetry over and over again. Major and minor poets alike have used it, often with startling results: Imamu Amiri Baraka, one of the most gifted of our contemporary poets, uses nigger in one of his angriest poems, "I Don't Love You."


. . .and what was the world to the words of slick nigger fathers too depressed to explain why they could not appear to be men. (1969, p. 55) One wonders: how are readers supposed to understand "nigger fathers"? Baraka's use of this imagery, regardless of his intention, reinforces the stereotype of the worthless, hedonistic Coon caricature. Ted Joans's use of nigger in "The Nice Colored Man" makes Baraka's comparatively harmless and innocent. Joans tells the story about how he came to write this unusual piece. He was, he says, asked to give a reading in London because he was a "nice colored man." Infuriated by the labels "nice" and "colored", Joans set down the quintessential truculent poem. While the poem should be read in its entirety, a few lines will suffice: . . .Smart Black Nigger Smart Black Nigger Smart Black Nigger Smart Black Nigger Knife Carrying Nigger Gun Toting Nigger Military Nigger Clock Watching Nigger Poisoning Nigger Disgusting Nigger Black Ass Nigger. . . (Henderson, 1972, pp. 223-225) This is the poem, with adjective upon adjective attached to the word nigger. The shocking reality is that many of these uses can be heard in contemporary American society. Herein lies part of the problem: the word nigger persists because it is used over and over again, even by the people it defames. Devorah Major, a poet and novelist, said, "It's hard for me to say what someone can or can't say, because I work with language all the time, and I don't want to be limited." Opal Palmer Adisa, a poet and professor, claims that the use of nigger or nigga is "the same as young people's obsession with cursing. A lot of their use of such language is an internalization of negativity about themselves" (Allen-Taylor, 1998).
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The post was written by Dr. David Pilgrim, and the website says:
"Dr. Pilgrim challenges audiences to think deeply about diversity and race relations. He is a Ferris State University Distinguished Teacher. Dr. Pilgrim has spent his adult life using objects of intolerance to teach tolerance. It works. His goal is to get people talking about diversity and race relations in meaningful ways -- and, then, to go and do something positive.

"Nigger" By Carl Sandburg

"Nigger" By Carl Sandburg:

I AM the nigger.
Singer of songs,
Dancer…
Softer than fluff of cotton…
Harder than dark earth	5
Roads beaten in the sun
By the bare feet of slaves…
Foam of teeth … breaking crash of laughter…
Red love of the blood of woman,
White love of the tumbling pickaninnies…	10
Lazy love of the banjo thrum…
Sweated and driven for the harvest-wage,
Loud laugher with hands like hams,
Fists toughened on the handles,
Smiling the slumber dreams of old jungles,	15
Crazy as the sun and dew and dripping, heaving life of the jungle,
Brooding and muttering with memories of shackles:
I am the nigger.
Look at me.
I am the nigger.

"Christ is a Nigger / Beaten and Black"

I knew this poem "Christ in Alabama" by Langston Hughes, before I started to write "the Remedy." The link above has several essays, and discusses the different versions of this poem.

Christ is a nigger,
Beaten and black:
Oh, bare your back!

Mary is His mother:
Mammy of the South,
Silence your mouth.

God is His father:
White Master above
Grant Him your love.

Most holy bastard
Of the bleeding mouth,
    Nigger Christ
    On the cross
    Of the South.

Claudia Rankine, Tony Hoagland's Poem, Rhetoric and Race

I was blissfully ignorant of the controversy that the 2003 Tony Hoagland poem caused in 2011. Have found this excellent blog post by Nordette Adams, excerpted below, to be an excellent introduction to the whole issue:

For the time being, I have no long comment of my own. (On March 9, I added my final thoughts in a new post.) Here, I'm simply providing interested parties with links beginning with a summary from the Poetry Foundation, and I am pondering this slice of life in the light of Kenneth Burke's words from A Rhetoric of Motives (Make no mistake, poetry is a kind of rhetoric):

For this imagery, so long as it was humorous, would contain a dimension which essentially qualified the animus. The imagery could foretell homicide only in the sense that it contained an ingredient which, if efficiently abstracted from its humorous modifiers, would in its new purity be homicidal. And such abstracting can take place, of course, when conditions place too much of a strain upon the capacity for humor.

I've been thinking lately that given the current state of America, her frazzled hair and ragged nerves related to race and political ideologies, evidence of her people's political polarization, some words may be too heavy a burden; they may strain the "capacity for humor" and love the way words sometimes do.

Would Rankine have had the same perception of the poem if she'd read it in 2003 before Barack Obama's 2008 win exposed the deepest phobias of skin color tribalists (that's what it takes to avoid the "r" word at all cost)? Would the poem have seemed less threatening before certain speakers of certain political parties clarified the distance between America today and anything post-racial? Would anyone on either side have felt differently eight years ago?

I'm sure when Hoagland woke up the day Rankine responded to his poem at AWP he had no idea that his 2003 words had been sitting all this time, a bomb rigged for 2011 explosion. However, as a poet, he may have hoped some day someone would feel fire from his words. In fact, based on his email response, as recollected by John Gallaher, I think that's exactly how Hoagland hopes his words hit people, like a thing that burns.

This is when he brought in the poem itself, by saying that people tend to read contemporary dramatic monologues as the voice of the poet. There is a difference between the voice of the poem and the actual poet. He then said that, even so, yes, he is a racist. But he’s also many other things, including a AAA member, a homophobe, a Unitarian, and a single mother, as all are personae.

He then defended the idea of tribes, saying that many poems by African Americans are written for African Americans, he believes. But also, he believes that poets, who he also considers his tribe, will figure out what he means. ... His poem is not racist, he asserts. It is, like America, racially complex.

Given what I've said about the "N-word" and Huck Finn sanitization, my agreement with John McWhorter on the topic, readers who know my opinions on racism in this country can guess that I lean more toward Hoagland's assessment of himself and America's racial predicament. But like America's racial predicament, my additional thoughts about Hoagland regarding the rhetoric of his poem and how he chooses to leverage his privilege as a white male are more complex.

So, please read what you care to read about this matter at the links below, ponder our dysfunction, and pass on your thoughts via Twitter, blogs, and Facebook. American poets probably haven't had this much attention since the 1960s.

http://bigsole.blogspot.com/2011/02/claudia-rankine-tony-hoaglands-poem.html

"I am Nobody's Nigger" Poet Dean Atta (UK)

26-year-old Dean Atta is one of the leading lights in London's poetry scene. His powerful reflections on race, identity and sexuality have won him recognition from BBC Radio, Channel 4 and the Tate Britain - not to mention a formidable reputation on the spoken word circuit.
But it's with his latest piece that Atta is beginning to attract a audience beyond the capital's poetry slams.

I Am Nobody's Nigger, performed here in an exclusive video interview with Huffington Post Culture, is primarily a response to the Stephen Lawrence murder case. But it also comes at a time when the issue of racism is bubbling up in several areas of British life, from politics to music to football.
In it he castigates those who use the term 'nigger' as though its a piece of toothless slang rather than a word with a potent and powerful role in the history of oppression. The poem - with its devastating final verse - is clocking up soundcloud and YouTube views at a rapid pace, and has been lauded by commentators from poetry, hip hop and even politics when it was praised by MP David Lammy on Twitter. Best of all, Dean says, it has prompted some rappers to get in touch with him to say they've given up using the word for good.

Watch the video above to hear Dean explain why he wrote the poem in his own words before performing it in full. You can read more about him and his work at his official website and follow him on Twitter. Warning: the poem contains strong language.
You can also hear some remixes of I Am Nobody's Nigger set to music on soundcloud.

Silence is Such a Sickening Sound (a poem)

In a recent poetry reading, in a famous poetry location, and among a temporary workshop poetry family, a listener who was greatly disturbed by one of the poems read came up to the podium to share that feedback. As the author of the poem in question, I applaud and respect and take heart from that response; hoping I would have the integrity to do the same thing if it were me in the audience.

In a group discussion afterwards, one member expressed concern that she had not said anything, and put forth that it was something that needed to be reflected about.

Another person, while sharing the discomfort over the poem presented, said it would not be a good thing if the habit developed of disrupting readings when someone in the audience feels that something offensive is read. I see the wisdom in the later and I admire the passion of the first.

I add this poem to the discussion. I put it up about 6 weeks ago near the Starbucks in my town, and it is still there.

Silence is such a sickening sound.

You hear it on rooftops, in every town,

In every tongue its chords resound.

Though blood is screaming from the ground,

Its voice is ever, always found.

Silence— such a sickening sound.

Silence—careful—it’s a disease.

It strikes the feeble heart with ease

As people do whatever we please.

Sometimes you hear it in the trees,

A fatal plague of killer bees.

Beware the spread of the silence disease.

Silence is the sharpest knife.

Ignored by husband, see the wife

Sucking breath to save her life.

Filled with noise, the world is rife

With tongues that pay the silence price.

Silence, this is the sharpest knife.

Silence is our smoothest lie.

We wear it as an alibi.

As frightened rodents run and hide,

Or people right before us die,

we, the silent, close our eyes.

Silence, this is our smoothest lie.

Silence is our common crime.

Humans tend to love our kind,

preferring to play dumb and blind.

See those children, in the mine?

Silence whispers “Never mind.”

Committing silence, that’s our crime.

Silence is such a sickening sound,

But I guess it’s always been around,

the native speech of every town.

It’s hard to buck the common crowd

when silence wears the public crown.

Silence—shhhh! Don’t make a sound.