Black.Girl.Grad.School

Get Your Life

4,376 notes

When you talk about a revolution, most people think violence, without realizing that the real content of any revolutionary thrust lies in the principles and the goals that you’re striving for, not in the way you reach them. On the other hand, because of the way this society’s organized, because of the violence that exists on the surface everywhere, you have to expect that there are going to be such explosions.

unhistorical:

Interviewer: But the question is more, how do you get there? Do you get there by confrontation, violence?

Davis: Oh, is that the question you were asking? Yeah see, that’s another thing. When you talk about a revolution, most people think violence, without realizing that the real content of any revolutionary thrust lies in the principles and the goals that you’re striving for, not in the way you reach them. On the other hand, because of the way this society’s organized, because of the violence that exists on the surface everywhere, you have to expect that there are going to be such explosions. You have to expect things like that as reactions. If you are a black person and live in the black community all your life and walk out on the street everyday seeing white policemen surrounding you… when I was living in Los Angeles, for instance, long before the situation in L.A ever occurred, I was constantly stopped. No, the police didn’t know who I was. But I was a black women and I had a natural and they, I suppose thought I might be “militant.”

And when you live under a situation like that constantly, and then you ask me, you know, whether I approve of violence. I mean, that just doesn’t make any sense at all. Whether I approve of guns.

I grew up in Birmingham, Alabama. Some very, very good friends of mine were killed by bombs, bombs that were planted by racists. I remember, from the time I was very small, I remember the sounds of bombs exploding across the street. Our house shaking. I remember my father having to have guns at his disposal at all times, because of the fact that, at any moment, we might expect to be attacked. The man who was, at that time, in complete control of the city government, his name was Bull Connor, would often get on the radio and make statements like, “Niggers have moved into a white neighborhood. We better expect some bloodshed tonight.” And sure enough, there would be bloodshed. After the four young girls who lived, one of them lived next door to me…I was very good friends with the sister of another one. My sister was very good friends with all three of them. My mother taught one of them in her class. My mother—in fact, when the bombing occurred, one of the mothers of one of the young girls called my mother and said, “Can you take me down to the church to pick up Carol? We heard about the bombing and I don’t have my car.” And they went down and what did they find? They found limbs and heads strewn all over the place. And then, after that, in my neighborhood, all the men organized themselves into an armed patrol. They had to take their guns and patrol our community every night because they did not want that to happen again.

Angela Davis on violence and revolution (1972)

(via merakitea)

Filed under angela davis violence new rules newrules

1 note

Here’s How It Goes:

You walk into a store.
You do not steal
but they say you have stolen.
You are afraid
but can never appear fearful.
Your heart races
even though you can’t be human.

And so they kill you.
Shoot you 10x - though
you were dead on the 1st –
so that they might be sure.

kholioli:

"Sometimes. If you’re not white. Even if you don’t live in St. Louis. Even if your name’s not #KajiemePowell."

meditationsforsurvival #morningmusings #writing #andsoitis

Here’s How It Goes:

You walk into a store. You do not steal but they say you have stolen. You are afraid but can never appear fearful. Your heart races even though you can’t be human.

And so they kill you. Shoot you 10x - though you were dead on the 1st – so that they might be sure.

kholioli:

"Sometimes. If you’re not white. Even if you don’t live in St. Louis. Even if your name’s not #KajiemePowell."

meditationsforsurvival #morningmusings #writing #andsoitis

Filed under mike brown kajieme powell

237 notes

In the past year, my first in a prestigious Ph.D. program in creative writing and literature, I have often felt conspicuous as a writer of color. I have felt a responsibility to speak up when race is discussed, but I have also resented this responsibility. Lately, I have found myself burying my head. It bothers me to no end that the pressure is beating me, and yet it is.

Like many writers of color, I read Junot Diaz’s “MFA vs. POC” on the New Yorker blog, and identified with his anger and sadness at the loss of voices of color to the “white straight male” default of the writing workshop — a group of writers gathering to critique one another’s work. I have had “good” and “bad” workshop experiences, but for me whenever race comes up, it feels, somehow, traumatic. While most issues in workshop are presented as universal to story, race can come off as a burden personal to writers of color.

Matthew Salesses, When Defending Your Writing Becomes Defending Yourself, NPR, July 20, 2014 (via yeahwriters)

Filed under writers of color blackgirlgradschool junot diaz matthew salesses quotes writing quotes quotes about writing poc

4 notes

 So Digging means to present, perhaps arbitrarily, varied paradigms of this essentially Afro-American art.  The common predicate, myself, the Digger.  One who gets down with the down, always looking above to see what is going out, and so check Digitaria, as the Dogon say, necessary if you are to dig the farthest star, Serious. 
 — Amiri Baraka, Digging: The Afro-American Soul of American Classical Music

… That time Amiri Baraka was basically like, "Don’t worry about whether you see me.  You see my impact."


Basically …
The Dogon are an ethnic group living in the central plateau region of the country of Mali, in Western Africa, south of the Niger bend, near the city of Bandiagara, in the Mopti region.  They are reported to possess advanced astronomical knowledge, in that their star system “with no instruments at their disposal [, tracked] the movements and certain characteristics of virtually invisible stars,” revealing precise knowledge of cosmological facts only known by the development of modern astronomy.

The Dogon believe that the brightest star in the sky, Sirius, has two companion stars: pō tolo (the Digitaria star), and ęmmę ya tolo, (the female Sorghum star).Sirius, in the Dogon system, formed one of the foci for the orbit of a tiny star, the companionate Digitaria star. When Digitaria is closest to Sirius, that star brightens: when it is farthest from Sirius, it gives off a twinkling effect that suggests several stars to the observer.


 Basically … 
 Baraka was like …

Digging means to present - however I want to, without outside concern - the many styles of black artistic excellence. 

Baraka is both the common predicate (as in the action, as in the thing being done, as in “The digger dug the well.” and the subject, “the digger.” 
He is the worker and the work.  He is a concept not easily understood.  He is the “One who gets down, with the down, always looking above” to see what is being presented (which is not necessarily him).  If you want to understand him - “Serious” or Sirius, the brightest star -you don’t necessarily look to him, but rather to what is near him.  You look to see what shines brighter, what multiplies as a result of his working.  You look to his impact.
Basically …
Baraka was all like  … "When you see them, see me."

So Digging means to present, perhaps arbitrarily, varied paradigms of this essentially Afro-American art. The common predicate, myself, the Digger. One who gets down with the down, always looking above to see what is going out, and so check Digitaria, as the Dogon say, necessary if you are to dig the farthest star, Serious.
— Amiri Baraka, Digging: The Afro-American Soul of American Classical Music

… That time Amiri Baraka was basically like, "Don’t worry about whether you see me. You see my impact."



Basically …
The Dogon are an ethnic group living in the central plateau region of the country of Mali, in Western Africa, south of the Niger bend, near the city of Bandiagara, in the Mopti region. They are reported to possess advanced astronomical knowledge, in that their star system “with no instruments at their disposal [, tracked] the movements and certain characteristics of virtually invisible stars,” revealing precise knowledge of cosmological facts only known by the development of modern astronomy.

The Dogon believe that the brightest star in the sky, Sirius, has two companion stars: pō tolo (the Digitaria star), and ęmmę ya tolo, (the female Sorghum star).


Sirius, in the Dogon system, formed one of the foci for the orbit of a tiny star, the companionate Digitaria star. When Digitaria is closest to Sirius, that star brightens: when it is farthest from Sirius, it gives off a twinkling effect that suggests several stars to the observer.



Basically …
Baraka was like …

Digging means to present - however I want to, without outside concern - the many styles of black artistic excellence.

Baraka is both the common predicate (as in the action, as in the thing being done, as in “The digger dug the well.” and the subject, “the digger.”

He is the worker and the work. He is a concept not easily understood. He is the “One who gets down, with the down, always looking above” to see what is being presented (which is not necessarily him). If you want to understand him - “Serious” or Sirius, the brightest star -you don’t necessarily look to him, but rather to what is near him. You look to see what shines brighter, what multiplies as a result of his working. You look to his impact.

Basically …
Baraka was all like … "When you see them, see me."

Filed under digitaria sirius dogon baraka amiri baraka black excellence astronomy running out of time runningoutoftime