Living Memories: Writing towards new beginnings
In with the old, out towards the new...
I’m excited for a new phase of my journey to begin this Summer. I’m going back to school to get me some more edu-mah-cay-chun!
I remember when I had a fantastic relationship to schooling. In the midst of parents arguing and divorcing, kidney failure and connecting to machines, and a self esteem that plummeted rapidly and crept upwards, I could still do the school thing. I could turn assignments into grades. I could read some readings and math some mathematics.
My father tells a story how I would take envelopes of homework thick as bricks into my hospital room and send them forth the next day blessed and completed. Now, I’m much more adjacent to the Nap Ministry than I am to the Temple of Hustle, so should I ever need the hospital bed again, it will only be used for sleeping, praying or fucking.
But school is calling Owólabi née William once more.
“I now think of myself as a writer. I didn't realize it on my own though. It was after Sula was published; I was talking to my editor (Robert Gottlieb of Knopf) one day, and he said, "This is what you are going to be when you grow up. This is it." I said, "A writer?" He said, "That's right. Of all those other little things you do, this is it. This is what you are." It wasn't that long ago, and I've had to think about it. In my life, I've never known what I was doing from one minute to the next; I was just working, I didn't have a "career." I grew up in a time when people didn't think like they do now about what they are going to be and do. I wanted to be a whole person, I wanted to be a good person, I wanted to be all those big things, and none of that had anything to do with a job.”
I’ve thought about my next steps in life these last few years.
When performing venues shut down in 2020, I poured the creative energy I had dedicated to hip hop into writing. As a writer I have consistently shared my work with Detroit publications especially Geez Magazine, Riverwise, and Against The Current. I’m proud of the writing I’ve done so far and I feel the thrum of things undone.
In truth, it isn’t school that is calling me, it is my writing. More specifically, the pieces I have yet to write; the stories and analyses that are inside me that I yet know how to craft.
There is more to come.
This summer I will begin my study in the Pacific University Masters of Fine Arts program (Portland, Oregon) to focus on non fiction and essay writing. It’s a low-residency program so I’ll stay in Detroit and go to the West Coast campus twice a year. During the school year I’ll write and revise, read and analyze, and be mentored each term by one of their powerful published faculty members. It’s designed for working adults and charges tuition like its students are experienced in paying bills. I’m honored to be selected to participate in the Pacific University Kwame Dawes/ Mapmakers network of writers of color.
My first goal for MFA study at Pacific is to write more courageously and push my language further than it has gone before. I also want to research more skillfully for my work. I want to develop my factual voice and social commentary to weave personal narratives into collective contexts. Lastly, I look forward to learning the craft and language of analysis and criticism which will advance my ongoing practices of writing book reviews, curating, and editing. In these uncertain days of climate catastrophe and global illness, I’m eager to learn– to craft stories of compassionate masculinity, collective creativity, and embodied vulnerability.
From my personal statement to Pacific University:
Pacific University frames the study of writing in terms of a “great conversation.” Today’s conversations grow increasingly urgent. How can we live together? How will we live on the earth? Will we continue to live on the earth? How do we move towards the future in the midst of these rituals of genocide? Should we struggle against the oppressions we were born into or dream of potential futures? One conversation is one that has been passed down through my family, my kinfolk, community and New Afrikan Nation: How do we survive?
Reading has been a part of that answer.
My paternal grandmother, Etter Rooks Copeland, made it out of Mississippi with a third grade education. She birthed twelve children and raised at least a few more. She had over a hundred grandchildren. Gathering times were full and ruckus, people talking and drinking, coming and going like Orisha from heaven to earth and back again. On holidays and especially at her birthday we surrounded her and read cards aloud to her and each other. Reading was a part of us using our collective voices to affirm love and create sacred moments.
My maternal grandfather, Ivy B Harper was, among other things, a painter. He painted for hospitals but on weekends he had his own business painting homes in the Detroit metro area. He lived for decades under the lie of segregation and loved the truths found in Black history. There was a power in how these independent researchers were rejected by mainstream scholarship and wrote courageously for an underground of Black seekers of dignity and self-knowledge. He had a trove of unique and well-worn books including J.A. Rodgers, Carter G. Woodson, Elijah Muhammad, Dr. Ben and many biographies and autobiographies.
So much of what writing means to me I learned in the homes of these two dear Ancestors.
I learned about what it can mean to be read.
As I enter this intentional study of writing, I imagine where my words will go:
for words to be quoted or sung, to be passed amongst loved ones like libations, trees, or memories …
for words to be medicine, a way finder that helps us correct the errors of the times we were born into…
As I enter this new phase, institutional study of writing, I also think of my Granny’s words:
“Don’t be an educated fool.”
Upcoming Event this Saturday (Hybrid): “To HEAL” at the MIT Wasserman Forum on Contemporary Art
In other higher education news, I’m excited to invite you to tune in to a panel discussion on healing, disability, and the arts.
Taraneh Fazeli, Cannach MacBride, and I will be speaking on a panel “To Heal” Saturday April 22, from 3:30 - 5PM EST that is part of the MIT Wasserman Forum on Contemporary Art. The Wasserman Forum investigates critical and timely issues in contemporary art and culture. The Forum will take place in person on the MIT campus (Cambridge, MA– ACT Cube Lower Level) but all are invited to join the live stream broadcasts. Park McArthur is the keynote Speaker the evening of Friday April 21.
I am honored that Taraneh Fazeli invited me to be on the panel that she is pulling together. “To Heal” looks at the oppressive ideology of curing, fixing that gazes at the details and focuses on what is wrong or erroneous. This “cure” will be contrasted with cultural and artistic possibilities that lead us towards healing. The three of us will speak as collaborators interweaving stories of creativity that go well beyond formal institutions of art, sharing stories of healing that far exceed medical diagnoses.
I’m still putting the finishing touches on my presentation. I plan to share a brand new poem inspired by the Celebration of Fresh Air that I co-created with Bridget Quinn and Ghiizhigad that an experience in public art aka creative ritual that still teaches me valuable lessons about portal hopping and ceremonies of intimacy.
Please check out the link below for more information and register to join us!
Beautiful Post! I love what you shared about your grandparents, reading aloud and creating sacred moments!