Let the Music Play 2
The crowd that gathered at Republic Gardens Sunday night wasn’t ready for the students of Duke Ellington’s Literary Media Program. Seated on stage, minutes before the show where they were both performers and beneficiaries, they looked smart, edgy, intellectual in jeans tight and baggy, shirts big and teeny, hair curly and locked.
Youthful insight was expected, a little satire or biting criticism about parents, boundaries, and violence. It was a poetry reading, you know, finger-snapping, cat calling, jive talking. There was art on the walls and women dressed in all black. The vibe, a word repeated often through the night called for something provocative to be said, The anticipation grew with each beat the dj dropped.
But a gay Piglet? Is this the Chappelle show?
You “wanna go to school naked”? Sounds more like Sapphire, author of Push, than high school student.
“Let the Music Play” raised more than money for Duke. From the gasps, shocked laughs, and steps back, the evening raised adults’ consciousness of the new adolescence. The new adolescence discovers life’s complexities—race, class, sexuality and deviance—in the time it takes to log onto BlackPlanet or theFacebook.com.
Curt Midkiff, of co-sponsor Smokin Grill Promotions, promised the youth had something to say. Youth always do. But how about:
Tigger, with all his dancing, bojanglin’ and yellow and black fur, is a rhyming N-word, the poet concluded. His upturned hands and half-smile chided us to accept the inevitable truth.
In addition to nude academics, the same poet “wants to make love to as many men as” she pleases. (Is Ms. magazine on the curriculum now?) “Yeah!” roared a woman in the crowd who was probably present during the Feminist Movement. Unruffled, if not charged, the petite poet laughed and declared, “Most of all I would like to be free.”
What’s the pedophile next-door thinking? Wondered her colleague, as innocent a query as the author of a book or the weather that morning. Pedophile? Parents turned to look around, for a TelePromter or a script. Did she just say “pedophile”?
Yep. Calmly, conscientiously, or boldly, the nine poets confronted the audience of young professionals and parents—often addressing the “ladies and gentlemen” directly—with the thoughts, images, and realities of being a teenager where love and violence take on new meaning, proportions, and definitely require“precautions.”
Their confidence, awareness and presence, characteristics of established writers, should not surprise. Patricia Elam, published author and director of the Lit Media program, explains the students enter the program already thinking as writers. To apply, they submit a carefully crafted portfolio of writing. Not something they have thrown together the night before, she clarifies. Once accepted, they demonstrate their commitment to the craft by completing four years of basic study, in addition to additional classes in writing, poetry, and media.
The poets hope to use the funding to expand their opportunities and coursework. The department is really small, says Ashley, the poet who—in contrast to her peers’ realities—reminded us of the simple pleasure of going to a party with “friends family and enemies all on the dance floor.”
“We want to make a documentary, explained Tierra, whose poetry considered the definition of love, a topic she admits to studiously avoiding. “We want to tell people things,” and their present equipment allows for only three minutes of recording. From this brief introduction, that is insufficient time for what they have to say.
With school the next morning looming, the students departed and the evening continued with performances from the luminous Nimat, and Anthony David, whose guitar-jamming roused the crowd alternately into foot stopping and coupled-up swaying. Both voiced encouragement for the younger artists before them. Said Nimat, who took music lessons in school, “I’m a musician, and I understand how much support is needed.” David, a post-performance smile dazzling his face, wanted to contribute to an education he never had. “I always wanted to go to school of arts, but never did, so I should support.”
The organizers intend to sponsor a second fundraiser in February for Ballou High School, and plan to establish a Let the Music Play Foundation.
Youthful insight was expected, a little satire or biting criticism about parents, boundaries, and violence. It was a poetry reading, you know, finger-snapping, cat calling, jive talking. There was art on the walls and women dressed in all black. The vibe, a word repeated often through the night called for something provocative to be said, The anticipation grew with each beat the dj dropped.
But a gay Piglet? Is this the Chappelle show?
You “wanna go to school naked”? Sounds more like Sapphire, author of Push, than high school student.
“Let the Music Play” raised more than money for Duke. From the gasps, shocked laughs, and steps back, the evening raised adults’ consciousness of the new adolescence. The new adolescence discovers life’s complexities—race, class, sexuality and deviance—in the time it takes to log onto BlackPlanet or theFacebook.com.
Curt Midkiff, of co-sponsor Smokin Grill Promotions, promised the youth had something to say. Youth always do. But how about:
Tigger, with all his dancing, bojanglin’ and yellow and black fur, is a rhyming N-word, the poet concluded. His upturned hands and half-smile chided us to accept the inevitable truth.
In addition to nude academics, the same poet “wants to make love to as many men as” she pleases. (Is Ms. magazine on the curriculum now?) “Yeah!” roared a woman in the crowd who was probably present during the Feminist Movement. Unruffled, if not charged, the petite poet laughed and declared, “Most of all I would like to be free.”
What’s the pedophile next-door thinking? Wondered her colleague, as innocent a query as the author of a book or the weather that morning. Pedophile? Parents turned to look around, for a TelePromter or a script. Did she just say “pedophile”?
Yep. Calmly, conscientiously, or boldly, the nine poets confronted the audience of young professionals and parents—often addressing the “ladies and gentlemen” directly—with the thoughts, images, and realities of being a teenager where love and violence take on new meaning, proportions, and definitely require“precautions.”
Their confidence, awareness and presence, characteristics of established writers, should not surprise. Patricia Elam, published author and director of the Lit Media program, explains the students enter the program already thinking as writers. To apply, they submit a carefully crafted portfolio of writing. Not something they have thrown together the night before, she clarifies. Once accepted, they demonstrate their commitment to the craft by completing four years of basic study, in addition to additional classes in writing, poetry, and media.
The poets hope to use the funding to expand their opportunities and coursework. The department is really small, says Ashley, the poet who—in contrast to her peers’ realities—reminded us of the simple pleasure of going to a party with “friends family and enemies all on the dance floor.”
“We want to make a documentary, explained Tierra, whose poetry considered the definition of love, a topic she admits to studiously avoiding. “We want to tell people things,” and their present equipment allows for only three minutes of recording. From this brief introduction, that is insufficient time for what they have to say.
With school the next morning looming, the students departed and the evening continued with performances from the luminous Nimat, and Anthony David, whose guitar-jamming roused the crowd alternately into foot stopping and coupled-up swaying. Both voiced encouragement for the younger artists before them. Said Nimat, who took music lessons in school, “I’m a musician, and I understand how much support is needed.” David, a post-performance smile dazzling his face, wanted to contribute to an education he never had. “I always wanted to go to school of arts, but never did, so I should support.”
The organizers intend to sponsor a second fundraiser in February for Ballou High School, and plan to establish a Let the Music Play Foundation.
posted by Rhonda Henderson at 9:46 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home