December 2017

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So, not a great year, in general. But I was able to be part of some cool stuff, and am endlessly grateful for everyone who helped make that possible. Here’s a quick recap (and you can find my other end-of-year recaps here) of some of the stuff of mine that people may have missed:

1. My TEDx Talk:


Read more about this here.

2. Our Relationship is a Slowly Gentrifying Neighborhood (Video)

Read more about this (including full credits, lyrics, and more) here.

3. How to Explain White Supremacy to a White Supremacist (Video)


This got posted on both YouTube and Facebook (via Button Poetry) and became a very useful tool for performances and dialogues all year. Read more about this here.

4. A Furious Vexation (Mixtape)

Read more about this (including ALL the lyrics) here.

5. Dust (Video)


The Japanese American Citizen’s League asked me to write a piece for the 2017 Day of Remembrance (the day in 1942 that Executive Order 9066 was signed, requiring internment of all Americans of Japanese ancestry), connecting it to current issues regarding xenophobia and anti-immigrant hate. Read more here.

6. Some Writing
A few essay-style pieces here, but I’ve also been trying to focus my online writing a bit more, zooming in specifically on resource-sharing posts.

7. Also, I’m on Instagram now
Just a few years too late. But it’s a good record of some other stuff from this past year, from performing at Eaux Claires, to the CU-Boulder planetarium, to a former NASA centrifuge, to A Call to Men’s national conference, and beyond. As always, feel free to get in touch to bring me to your school, conference, whatever.

As for the future, I’m working on a new book now. TruArtSpeaks‘ #BeHeard18 Youth Poetry Slam Series is right around the corner. I’m trying to connect with organizers in MN, WI, IA and beyond about creative ways artists can support progressives running in midterm elections. And a million other things. Thanks for reading.

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A few months ago, Button Poetry asked if I might be interested in doing some more in-depth write-ups of a handful of poems going up on their channel. It felt like a good opportunity to shine a spotlight on some other artists, as well as share some basic critical analysis tools with Button’s (considerable!) audience. Spoken word video has, after all, really blown up over the past few years, with millions of people watching poems online, sharing them, and beginning to participate themselves. I believe this is a good thing.

What’s maybe missing, to some extent, is the space to develop some critique skills that go beyond “I like this” or “I don’t like this.” We do this in classes, workshops, and writing circles, but not everyone has access to those. We do this in informal conversations with one-another, but again, not everyone has access to those. And since there aren’t really a lot of big spoken word-focused blogs, podcasts, journals, etc. (in the same way that there are for, for example, Hip Hop, or traditional page poetry), this felt like a niche we could start to fill.

Because that process– of figuring out why we like something, or analyzing what makes a particular poem work, or being able to identify the tools and techniques being used– is bigger than just poetry. That’s about cultivating curiosity and critical thinking. Ideally, more people will begin doing this, both through Button and on their own.

For now, here are the write-ups that I’ve done. Note: Button posts a new video pretty much every day, so I’m not writing up every single one– just the ones they send me. I hope these are interesting and/or useful. Feel free to post your own thoughts, disagreements, and observations.

Dave Harris: To The Extent X Body Including its Fists Constitute “Weapons”

Sam Sax: Written to be Yelled at Trump Tower During a Vigil for The NEA

Bianca Phipps: Stay With Me

Donte Collins: New Country (after Safia Elhillo)

Hanif Abdurraqib: Watching A Fight At The New Haven Dog Park

Javon Johnson: Baby Brother

Blythe Baird: Yet Another Rape Poem

Hanif Abdurraqib: At My First Punk Rock Show Ever, 1998

William Evans: They Love Us Here

Jared Singer: Silence

Ariana Brown: Ode to Thrift Stores

Mitcholos: Cacophony

Alysia Harris: Joy

Carmen Gillespie: Blue Black Wet of Wood

Olivia Gatwood: When I Say We Are All Teen Girls

Franny Choi: Split Mouth

Billy Tuggle: Marvin’s Last Verses

William Evans: Bathroom Etiquette

Talia Young: While My Love Sleeps I Cook Dinner

Bao Phi: Broken/English

Soups: The Dark Side of Being Mixed

Ashaki Jackson: The Public is Generally Self taught and Uninformed

Rudy Francisco: The Heart and the Fist

Hieu Minh Nguyen: The Translation of Grief

Isha Camara: Loudest Burial

Bianca Phipps: When the Boy Says He Loves My Body

Suzi Q Smith: Bones

Pages Matam, Elizabeth Acevedo, and G. Yamazawa: Unforgettable

Bernard Ferguson: Love Does Not Want This Body

Muna Abdulahi: Explaining Depression to a Refugee

Kevin Yang: Come Home

Danez Smith: Trees

Guante: A Pragmatist’s Guide to Magic

EJ Schoenborn: Controversial Opinion: In Defense of Cargo Shorts

(to be continued)

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Here it is. If you want a summary, the talk is basically about how the relationship between art and activism is so much deeper than just art that happens to be about activist stuff, that there’s a further connection in terms of process. The questions that artists ask themselves often mirror the questions that activists ask. The steps that artists take from idea to concept to art often mirror the steps that activists take from value to principle to action.

***Update (11/7/18): another poem, plus a consolidated list of activist resources, here***

My biggest worry is that the title of the talk might insinuate that it’s “for” artists or people who are already deeply engaged in activist work. And it’s not, really. This talk is for anyone who knows the world is messed up, and wants to do something about it. Just a few notes:

1. The talk opens with a revised version of my poem “Quicksand.” I’ve always liked that poem, but have also always worried that it’s too easy to misinterpret, to read it as a basic critique of slacktivism, or a call for action-for-action’s sake; for me, it’s something more nuanced. It’s my own fault as a writer that that isn’t more clear, but this talk gave me a chance to dig into the poem a little more.

2. The full text to that poem can be found here, and it’s also included in my book. As for the text of the full talk, I’m working on a highly-reimagined version of it for my new book, and the text/transcript is available via TED’s website.

3. The talk also plays off the zine that me and Liv Novotny made this past year; I’m currently working on a revised/updated version of that as well. Feel free to share!

FULL TEXT:
QUICKSAND

Upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, waist-deep in quicksand, I need a second to process. After all, this is fiction made flesh; it’s like a cartoon, like going to the zoo and seeing a mermaid. So my first response, naturally, is to tell him:

Hey, um, I’m pretty sure that I read somewhere that quicksand isn’t actually dangerous, that this idea of a patch of sandy water sucking a person down into oblivion is just a tall tale, a trope to build tension in early 1960s westerns. In real life, yeah, I mean, you can get caught in some mud, but it’s not really that hard to get out. So are you sure you’re sinking in quicksand?

He sinks. My words don’t seem to have any effect. So being an open-minded, progressive individual, I reevaluate. Maybe quicksand is real. So what now?

My second response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, chest deep in quicksand is, before I actually do anything, to make sure that I have the whole picture. I mean, what was this guy doing out here in the jungle all alone? Did he step into that quicksand on purpose? Was he asking for it? Does he have a criminal record? Maybe I should wait until all the facts come in.

He sinks. And again, being an open-minded, progressive individual, I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now. I want to help.

So my third response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, neck deep in quicksand is, obviously, to recite a poem. To throw some positive energy his way. To describe, out loud, just how heavy my heart is. I take a piece of paper out of my backpack, and with a pen, I write “quicksand is bad and I am an ALLY to those who fall in it.” I pin that piece of paper to my chest. I take out my phone and I tweet “when are we going to wake up? #quicksand.”

He sinks. And being an open-minded, progressive individual, I decide that this isn’t enough, that we, as a society, need to address the root causes of people sinking in quicksand. So my fourth response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, forehead-deep in quicksand, is to take a moment to acknowledge my privilege as someone who is not sinking in quicksand. I vow to take a class, to be more mindful of how I navigate the world.

He sinks. And being an open-minded, progressive individual, I decide that the time for words has passed; now is the time for action. So my fifth response upon stumbling, by chance, upon a man, disappeared into quicksand, is… is…

We can’t allow ourselves to forget what happened here. I know that we need to do something, to put up a sign, to educate people, to build a bridge over this patch of quicksand. I just don’t have any wood. I just have this backpack full of paper and pens and rope; what can one person do?

I imagine my lungs filling with mud. Black earth. Brown water. The hike back to my hotel will be full of reflection. I offer my thoughts, and my prayers. It is the least I can do.