In response to the grand-jury debacles in Missouri and New York, numbers of poets have been sharing their outrage about the toxic relationship between cops and black citizenry in America. Simultaneously, a handful of nonwhite poets are publicizing their distress at how white poets are writing about the situation. Generalized politics aren't the issue here: by and large, the white poets are striving to protest alongside the black poets. Rather the question has often been simplified into "Should white poets be writing about black issues?"
My answer? Of course, white poets should write about black issues. Will they make mistakes? Will they misunderstand? Will they perceive the world through their own lens? Yes. But if writing is discovery, if writing is working to figure something out, if writing is a struggle to articulate what can't be easily said, then how are white poets going to grow into knowledge about a complex issue without trying to write about it?
For an analogy, ask yourself, "Should women write about men?" "Should men write about women?" Now imagine the state of literature if neither of those things had ever happened.
I wrote an essay a while ago about The Autobiography of Malcolm X, a book that I care about a great deal. Yet I also think Malcolm X made some mistakes about women, maybe even about white people. And I think that I'm allowed to say so.
5 comments:
Bravo, Dawn.
Thank you once again, for putting into words how I feel.
This is yet another subject that I am nervous about broaching . . . so thank you for thinking that it's worthwhile.
Agree 1000%.
Last night while in Portland for First Night my daughter and I got into the middle of a demonstration against the profiling of black men and boys. We walked arm in arm silently while others chanted slogans, etc. Some I did not agree with and one young guy gave the woebegone police officers the finger. It wasn't scary, we were in Portland after all, but it was deeply emotional. Many people along the way supported us or just looked on quietly. After a long march the group suddenly stopped and the leaders asked us to lay in the intersection for 4.5 minutes, the length of time Eric Garner was suffocated. At first I hesitated, but then Lucy and I lay down in the street with about 100 people. It was nearly still the entire time with only the shuffling of feet and the clicking of cameras. All traffic was stopped. The old elegant buildings were beautiful against the sky. It was a beautiful night. Afterwards we exercised our right as middle class white people and went to a trendy restaurant where we paid too much for some wonderful food.
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