‘a yearning beyond visible expression.’

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Tomorrow afternoon I’m reading with a set of talented folk at the Nuyorican Poet’s Cafe to celebrate the release of For Some Time Now: Performance Poets of New York City, a self published volume of photographs by Jonathan Weiskopf, edited by Jeanann Verlee. My essay, Notes Toward An Ars Poetica, is included in the anthology. I’m really honored to be included in this beautiful project.

For those of you wholly unawares, I’ve been spottily documenting the New York Performance poetry scene for years. Many of the members in this community had become some of my closest, dearest friends. Some of my earlier photo work covering my time as a resident photographer at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe in 1999-2000 on Verbs On Asphalt, conceived and designed by Claire Ultimo. (The above photo is one of my own, of Jeanann Verlee at the National Poetry Slam in St. Paul 2010 (that’s not included in the book). The essay included in Weiskopf’s book, kinda brings my story in this community full circle. I’m no poet; just a woman grasping at air and words and images to sort out meaning in living everyday.

When you lose 4 of your most significant people who’ve influenced you in your life over an 18 month period, it changes you. For my part, the true manifestation of that change is making itself fully known now. Amidst all that grief, I fought my way to joy, largely in part because of this community.

I could say more, but now is not the time. If you’re free tomorrow afternoon, stop by the Nuyo between 2PM – 6PM to view the exhibition and buy the book.

Nuyorican Poets Cafe 36 E. 3rd St., New York, NY 10009

What I’m Reading. What I’m Thinking.

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It was not natural. And she was the first…
A poet can read. A poet can write.
A poet is African in Africa, or Irish in Ireland, or French on the left bank of Paris, or white in Wisconsin. A poet writes in her own language. A poet writers of her own people, her own history, her own vision, her own room, her own house where she sits at her own table quietly placing one word after another word until she builds a line and a movement and an image and a meaning that somersaults all of these into the singing, the absolutely individual voice of the poet: at liberty. A poet is somebody free. A poet is someone at home.
How should there be Black poets in America?

-June Jordan, The Difficult Miracle of Black Poetry in America

This the epigraph to Adrienne Rich’s essay, ‘History Stops for No One’ in her collection, What Is Found There.  I picked this book up again 3 weeks ago to reread days before she died. I can’t stop reading it. You should read it too.

More later.

Programming Notes.

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Hello Internets,

I’ve been so busy that I haven’t spent much time here. Here’s to changing that in 2012. Here’s a modest roundup of what’s I’ve been up to and what’s coming up:

- Union Station Magazine’s Storyteller Issue (edited by yours truly) is up. Check it out!

- I try to wrap my head around The Tuscon United School District battles censorship with Arizona State Schools Superintendent for Moonshot Magazine.

- Friday, February 10th @ 7:30 – I’m reading works of fiction/ish with Eve Bates, Ana Božičević, Gregory Crosby, Jason Helm, Kendra Grant Malone and Erin Rashbaum for Moonshot Magazine’s Cavity Search.

That’s all she wrote for now. I’ll be with more goodies.

Also – Yay Giants!

#BLACKOUT.

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I’ve read several opinions on SOPA/PIPA for weeks. I may be off in my read of it, but below is my letter to Senator Schumer urging his withdrawal of support of this bill. I’m sharing it here. Read the bill. Section 103 is SCARY. I’m not kidding.

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Dear Senator Schumer:

It has come to my attention that you support SOPA/PIPA that is currently under consideration in Congress. Your support of this bill is distressing and as a long time supporter of your service, and I’m now faced with a difficult decision if you choose to continue your support of this bill.

This bill is poorly written. It is unclear where piracy/copyright protection for the entertainment industry and preservation of free speech begins and ends.

The definition alone of a ‘internet site dedicated to the theft of US Property’ is so wildly unwieldy that EVERY INTERNET SITE CREATED IN THE US would be subject to scrutiny of the Attorney General depending on the claim by any entity that said site has committed ‘theft’ of content, which in this case equals ‘loss revenue’ for said entity. Should a site post a review or comment about a product that is unflattering to said product, the entity has the right to request the AG order Google to remove references index references to the site in a simple search, and the host provider would be mandated to block access to the site to any viewers who seek the domain. The offending entity has little to no resources to object this claim and the US government can assume ownership of the domain? This is my close read of Section 103 of the bill as it is currently written.

While many may believe that this is tied only to piracy (blocking sites that allow for streaming of motion pictures or major record label music), I don’t see how this bill protects the very foundation of our democracy, the ability for the press to communicate with readers, trusted and respected bloggers to communicate with their readers. I read US papers and international papers online. The bill would allow the US government to unilaterally block any foreign website. Should the BBC report on American events, the AG has the discretion to block my access to it? Really? It also seems to imply that a simple email communication between an individual and me could get flagged as copyright infringement and could mean that my email becomes property of US government and all my communication would be blocked. Am I mistaken in this interpretation?

I have a blog and occasionally write for other sites. If I’m reading Section 103 correctly, it also implies that any reference I may make could be in violation of copyright protection. I’m also a volunteer editor of an online literary journal. The content we publish is original work from writers and visual artists. We understand the sensitivity of this issue of piracy. However, should our original content reflect views that are deemed unsavory to an entity, corporation or the federal/state/local governments could simply block access to that content. We are a small entity; we rely solely on our connection to an online community of readers. There are many sites that are similar to ours in creating content. The bill could shut us down and hundreds down like us with the broad and undefined powers given to the attorney general under the guise to simply ‘protect US Property’.

The definitions are so nebulous, it allows for gross abuses in enforcement that leave me to conclude that in its implementation it would reach further than just shutting down sites of pirated entertainment media. It would be censorship of information and silencing between communities sharing communication, information for social and political action. It leads me to conclude that this is a direct assault on our first amendment rights.

Any reasonable person who reads this bill as it is currently written understands that this bill provides a trapdoor to ending free speech. I urge you to withdraw support from SOPA/PIPA. I’m sure that you and many members of congress could spend a little more time to precisely define terms to protect content creators and uphold copyright laws without making every citizen of the United States a criminal. You vote for this bill, you will lose my vote in the next election cycle.

Sincerely,

Syreeta McFadden
Brooklyn, NY

‘Let’s meet the moment. Let’s get to work.’

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Here’s the thing: Nobody hires in August.

I know this fact quite intimately. I had begun my job search in the summer of 2008, before my job was ‘eliminated’ at the end of 2008. I was working in the real estate world then, and contrary to popular narratives, signs of distress were everywhere in 2007. In August 2008, a colleague enlightened me to this universal corporate meme.

So when the new numbers were released from the department of labor that showed zero job growth for the month of August and the unemployment rate held at 9.4, I didn’t flinch.

My expectations were already low.

I’m no politician, just an average, slightly over educated black woman who worked in the very industry that seems to be the lynchpin of the Obama’s job plan and well, a fake psychic.

Here’s me in February 2009:

So this brings me to my current thinking about infrastructure. Infrastructure is more than the physical universe of roads, bridges, schools, power grids, levees, dams, reservoirs, trains, subways. Think of them as veins and vessels within the body. The body cannot live without the mind. Teachers, firefighters, police officers, servicemen and women flow through that universe. So do you and I. And all of us need to be a bit more educated about how we all are connected in this life. How do we individually complement the stimulus package that was just signed? Infrastructure, beyond the jobs and economic stability it can create, includes you, me and a dose of intellectual curiosity.

America is a young nation with old systems in play. All that American ingenuity we’ve been taught about has laid fallow for too long.

Here’s Obama in 2011:

The purpose of the American Jobs Act is simple: to put more people back to work and more money in the pockets of those who are working. It will create more jobs for construction workers, more jobs for teachers, more jobs for veterans, and more jobs for long-term unemployed. (Applause.) It will provide — it will provide a tax break for companies who hire new workers, and it will cut payroll taxes in half for every working American and every small business. (Applause.) It will provide a jolt to an economy that has stalled, and give companies confidence that if they invest and if they hire, there will be customers for their products and services. You should pass this jobs plan right away. (Applause.)

Indeed. This thought process is rooted in simple economics: cash begets demand, demand begets supply, begets higher GDP. This is stimulus for main street. Create an environment so that consumers spend and employers hire. Investment in infrastructure is known by most policy wonks as the speediest metric to mark job growth. It is not unlike the recession of 2000/2001, when everyone looked toward investment in construction starts for housing, to compensate for the epic failure and job losses from internet companies folding. And that housing boom (and inevitable bust) carried the country out of recession of the early aughts. I suppose the logic remains the same here for the American Jobs Act; incentivize the private market (small businesses) to hire more 14 million Americans out of work, put cash in the pockets of those underemployed and overworked Americans so that we spend more and grow the economy.

Construction jobs are like cells dividing, besides the trades that get hired, folks who do work with their hands, it also creates a bureaucracy, a host of support staff to manage the endeavor. It’s not a bad idea…

Which is really to say that while this is effective method to stimulate job growth, it is a terribly old idea. If we’re to presume that everyone in the job market is looking to specialize in masonry, electrical, engineering trades, then he’s definitely on to something. It certainly would require a re-education or refining of capabilities. The ‘jobs’ that this bill will likely create would require a highly specialized labor force, one that seeks transform an erstwhile trader/bookseller that’s been serving up your latte at your local coffee shop for the past six months to rewire a school to support a 4G network.

When we talk of job creation what exactly are we talking about? Continue reading →

however do you want me. however do you need me.

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So I took the summer off from blogging and have been on my reinvention grind. This economy has been various degrees of unkind and kind to black girls (and yes, everyone). As of late I’m choosing to embrace a more positive dream (more on that later). Yet, these hands were not idle. There’s the summer issue of the litmag I edit with an awesome team of folks and a new issue to drop later this month. As well as confronting my oddball disdain for Herman Melville (my sole summer read), which has really revealed a misdirected love for his whole opus. That reads cryptic, I know. I’ll unpack that later gators.

dancebreak.

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I don’t know about you, but lately, everything is coming up ’80s for me. 1980s. Bad economy, the ghost of Ronald Reagan, bad banks, doc siders, penny loafers, jelly shoes, skinny jeans, jeggings, acid wash jeggings, jelly bracelets (silly bands), flannel. That stupid article in Psychology Today calling me and mine ugly got me watching a pivotal scene from 1985 classic, The Color Purple. I needed to hear Celie’s declaration of independence, ‘I’m poor, black, I may even be ugly, but dear god, I’m here. I’m here!.’

Cornel West broke up with Obama y’all. On some silly bitch trifle over inauguration tickets and somesuch. He’s spewing some bitterness that makes me wince (translation = deeply uncomfortable) on some old black nationalist anti-semetic line that I hadn’t heard since the last century. I get that you’re sad that he doesn’t call anymore, boo but you ain’t gotta pit folks on some us versus them. Not when it’s the 50th anniversary of the Freedom Rides. And in an odd turn of events, I found myself trolling YouTube for Basia’s 1989 jam. It’s kinda a break up song, right?

But honestly, if we’re talking 1980s to 1990, this was the penultimate break up songs of all break up songs:

I’m also told that the Rapture is scheduled for this Saturday. And like any self respecting, skeptical and musical loving nerd, I queued up Blondie *and* KRS-One’s cover:

I’m just glad we got a soundtrack for this stuff. But really, I love everyone’s hair and the soft focus lenses, and the reverse grip of heartache. This is how I will want to remember the world before it all ends.

death and all his friends…

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Union Square Park. September 14, 2001. © syreeta mcfadden

“I’ve never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure.”
— Mark Twain

I couldn’t stop crying this morning. Which really surprised me. Like everyone else, I stayed up to watch the President address the nation confirming the death of Osama Bin Laden.

Osama Bin Laden. Destroyer of worlds. Mass Murderer. Fanatic. Enemy of the United States. Terrorist.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the dust. I’m only thinking about the dead.

For the last 10 days straight, when I check my phone for the time, I always manage to see it turn from 9:10 to 9:11 every twelve hours.

What people fail to understand about New Yorkers is how we live the everyday of aftermath of September 11th. There’s the constructed narrative and imagination the nation feels, sees, experiences from a distance, but here, there’s simply the fact of it. I explain this to my grandmother this morning. Some details she didn’t know: the World Trade Center site burned for five months, the dust from the remains of the victims blanketed us days shortly after the collapse, we still get our bags searched, we smelled the decomp for weeks, there are memorials to the victims -everywhere, many of us (me included) contracted sinus infections weeks after the collapse, people I worked with contracted cancer and died. Modell’s on Broadway, a block and half away from Two World Trade, didn’t clean the dust from the collapse off its awning and window display till Spring 2002.

Osama Bin Laden. Saboteur of affordable housing subsidies. Here’s a detail that isn’t discussed much: the slated sale of the World Trade Center property in 2001, was imagined, planned even, to be a source of subsidy for low, moderate and middle income housing for new construction projects. When I worked for the City, we jokingly blamed Osama for that.

The boogeyman is dead. Forgive me if I’m not in the street flag waving and celebrating. I’m still processing the trauma of the events that shifted the world view of several generations, the nearly 1 million dead in ten years, the ongoing wars, their uncertain endings, the ridiculous far right extremism and racial animus manifested on our shores. This bastardized new world order initiated by the act of a deep pocketed, megalomaniac, opportunistic religious zealot. The pacifist in me recedes. Forgive me if I’m not sad he’s dead.

late pass.

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I’ve been lurking on the internets, following the latest on Chris Brown. Here’s dream hampton:

He clearly doesn’t have the kind of support system that is encouraging—even insisting—him to seek mental health treatment. His mother is an enabler, and his handlers huddled him into a truck the night he boxed in Rihanna’s face, leaving her to fend for herself—an incredible misstep. Even if they hated Rihanna, they had to know leaving her there would lead to a publicity Chernobyl. These handlers were twice his age.

I watched the interview before reading her article, and that was my sense as well. Robin Roberts questioned him as gingerly as a journalist possibly could. It almost had the feel that she prepped him before going on air, yet his answers were unrefined and without remorse. I don’t doubt for a second that these questions were not presented to him in advance. The post interview tantrum tells me of the storm to come for him if he doesn’t seek therapy. Team Breezy fans elective ignorance of Brown’s mental state only highlights a cultural taboo that still shrouds Black Americans, depression and domestic violence.

To boot, some are blaming the interviewer for the actions of the interviewee, keeping with the long trend to blame the victims for their assaults. Like Lara Logan for reporting in Egypt in Tahrir Square.

Let’s be clear, Chris Brown did a terrible thing. He has to take responsibility for that. He has to heal from the childhood trauma that led him to those actions. He hasn’t. His answers to Roberts on GMA were a controlled rage that inevitably had to explode in the dressing room afterward. I could feel how angry and uncomfortable he was watching that interview. He has to move beyond blanket statements like: ‘that’s all in the past. It’s about my music.’ I’m not convince of that. That’s the machine talking. The machine wants him to get out there and sell records, make millions, and it is willing wage his soul to achieve that end. I’m reminded of Brittany Spears troubles in the early aughts, when the machine pushed her past the limits of artist/entertainer and celebrity so hard that the walls collapsed. Brown is roughly the same age Spears was then, and yes the scandals that surrounded them are not exact copies, but the machine is.

I have a zero tolerance policy on sexual terrorism and domestic violence. I still have arguments with my students and family about the 2009 assault. Some have said to me, ‘but she provoked him.’ To which I have often had to respond, ‘I don’t care what she said or did. No one deserves that. No one. Male or female.’ Looking at Robyn Rihanna Fenty now, I’m not convinced she’s recovered. And that’s okay. It really is. Recovery takes time. And these guys, need to take as much time as they need.

against appropriation, cont.

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I still don’t have an answer to the dilemma of influence versus appropriation without attribution.  While I was re-reading Rene Ricard’s essay, The Radiant Child (Artforum XX, Issue 4 December, 1981), for other obsessive reasons (research) the following passage seemed especially poignant:

As much as undervaluation can kill, so can a false sense of the value of your work. Jean-Michel was advised to stop giving it away. But if your friends can’t have it, why live? Overprotection is deadly; the stuff has to get out there to be seen. Making money is something between artists and their stomachs. To turn one’s work into fetish that is almost indistinct from oneself, to overpersonalize and covet one’s own work, is professional suicide. Fear of rip-off is paralysis. One is always ripped off. Keeping work a secret is the psychology of the applied artist, not the fine artist who must live in a dialogue.

If you haven’t seen the documentary of the same name on the life Jean-Michel Basquiat, you should get on that.