While on a ritual Netflix binge, I stumble across my favorite documentary, “The Black Power Mixtape,” for what seems like the millionth time. Each time I watch it, I inevitably discover a scene I’d previously overlooked and find new meaning in that moment based on the progression(or lack thereof) my life has taken thus far.
This time, the scene takes place in Harlem circa the late ‘60s inside of a black-owned bookstore filled with towering stacks of what I like to call “vintage” African-American Literature: Paul Laurence Dunbar, Claude McKay, Jean Toomer, and most infamously Langston Hughes. Lewis H. Michaux, a middle-aged black man with a spunky afro, stands in the center of the organized chaos as groups of little black boys and girls scurry in and out the storefront. The shop owner shares with the Swedish filmmakers that when he hears his young patrons shout,”black power,” he promptly corrects them.
“Black is beautiful, but black isn’t power. Knowledge is power,” Michaux clarifies. “For you can be black as a crow, you can be white as snow and if you don’t know and ain’t got no dough, you can’t go and that’s fo’ sho’.”
Continue reading “The Ink of a Scholar”
I love James Baldwin.
As a fellow writer and Harlem native, he is my literary muse. When I first discovered his work, I felt as if he snatched the words off the tip of my tongue and splattered them on the page. He revealed me to myself, reaffirming my humanity in a country where blacks were offered a subpar education, fed subpar food, and left to rot in subpar housing.
Baldwin was and, perhaps, still remains America’s black revolutionary voice.
Continue reading “What James Baldwin Taught Me About Racist Trolls”
Stumbled across this today…
English 6-Period 5
January 30, 2007
What do you want to be when you grow up?
Ball in hand, one second on the clock; the athlete frantically prepares his course of action. As he drives down the middle of the court, the fate of the game is in his hands. He thrusts the powerful mass onto its target with brilliant caution and skill, hoping that his desperate attempt will prevail.
Power, not only, lays in mind of the craftsmen, however, it similarly lays in the tool of his craft. As the ball is to the player, so is the pen to the writer. As an aspiring journalist, the pen is the tool of my craft.
Nearly 6 years later, and I couldn’t have said it better myself…
Photo by frankjuarez/CC BY 2.0