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photo by Tony Gao

For those who don’t know, April is National Poetry Month. For some, that means they share poetry on social media, or book poets to visit their schools (wink); others engage in “30/30s,” writing 30 poems in 30 days.

To be honest, I’ve never done a 30/30 and don’t plan to. I definitely encourage others to try it, as long as it feels like a healthy challenge, and not something stressful; it just doesn’t work for my personal process. I do, however, love the idea of sharing writing prompts, little poem starters or ideas for people who are looking for some inspiration, or are struggling with writer’s block.

TruArtSpeaks is sharing a writing prompt every day this month. Young Chicago Authors also has an archive of prompts. There are plenty of others online. For this post, I wanted to share a few of my own, with a small twist.

Most writing prompts focus on form (and that’s great!); just for a change of pace, here are a few that focus on content instead, leaving the form part completely up to you. Maybe it’s a sonnet, or a song, or a persona poem, or an open letter, or something else; but here are a few topics I’d personally like to hear more poems about.

I am not saying that these are the only important issues of our time. I am not saying that every poet should stop what they’re doing and write about these topics right now. I am not in the business of telling people what to write about (especially since we all face different interests, pressures, and expectations). But for poets, songwriters, and other kinds of artists out there who ARE actively looking for a challenge, I’d offer these five prompts:

1. How can artists meaningfully address climate change?

This has always been something I’ve wanted to write more about; it’s just challenging. For so many of us (though not all of us, of course), climate change is an abstract issue. We know it’s important, but don’t necessarily have a personal story to share. I’m also thinking about how important it is for poems to transcend the basic “hey this is something to be aware of” stuff and really get to a call-to-action. That’s also challenging, though, since so many calls-to-action are so individual-oriented, and we know that to truly address climate change, it’s going to take more than individuals choosing to recycle, or buy an electric car. A few thoughts:

  • How do you make this issue “real” for the audience? If personal narrative isn’t an option, and speaking “for” others isn’t an option, how else can imagery, metaphor, and storytelling propel a piece of art beyond the rattling off of statistics and facts? Maybe it’s a more speculative/sci-fi approach? Maybe it’s something really left-field and outside-the-box?
  • How can a poem or song invoke a sense of urgency? How do you call the audience to action in a way that acknowledges the true scope of the problem and transcends easy, individual answers, while still energizing and mobilizing people to do something? Especially when it’s so easy to feel powerless about this issue; where might power come from?

2. How can artists meaningfully address authoritarianism and fascism?

I’d argue that this is a defining issue of this particular moment in history. Of course, the US has always had an authoritarian streak, and immigrants and Muslims have always been targeted, and racism and oppression have always been built into the foundations of this country– that’s all true. But what is also true is that the past couple years have accelerated all of this in specific and meaningful ways; the implicit is becoming explicit. The most extreme elements of the Right are emboldened. And it’s all getting worse. So what can a poem do? A few thoughts:

  • A key line in my song “Bumbling Shithead Fascists” is “the smallest act of resistance/ when the emperor is naked/ is just to say it, and say it, and say it.” I wonder, sometimes, whether part of why this stuff is hard to write about is because it’s easy to write about. Of course Trump is a disaster. Of course his administration is wrong about everything and hurting people. It can feel like a challenge to say something new or original. So maybe one writing prompt here is to write about what’s happening, without the pressure to be more radical than the last person, or more “right” than the last person. Just adding our voices to the larger chorus can be valuable– poetry as witness, poetry as journalism.
  • At the same time, of course, we want to create art that cuts through the noise, that does say something new or original. So how might we do that? Maybe it’s about political education, getting more and more people to be able to identify a fascist policy or talking point when they hear it. Maybe it’s about focus– choosing one specific element of this larger political shift and really zooming in on it, in order to comment on the bigger picture. Maybe it’s about calling people to action, highlighting specific organizations doing good work and sharing ways to support them. None of that is “easy” for poets, but I think it’s important.
  • (2022 Update: here’s one attempt. Not the best thing I’ve ever written, but a fun experiment)

3. How can artists talk about electoral politics without just sounding like shills?

The 2020 elections are going to be really, really important. I’d love to hear more poems about voting, but again– those can be challenging to write. We don’t want to write “voting is the only thing you can do to create change” poems, because that isn’t true. We don’t want to write “vote for my candidate because they’re perfect” poems, because all of the Dem 2020 candidates have major baggage, and while I know a lot of us are going to vote for whomever comes out of the primary, that’s just not a very inspiring message. So how CAN we talk about electoral stuff in a way that is artistically engaging and cool? A few thoughts:

  • A get-out-the-vote poem doesn’t have to focus on a specific candidate, and it doesn’t have to position voting as the be-all-end-all of political engagement. There are more nuanced ways to talk about all that. In this poem, Tish Jones makes some great connections; here’s what I wrote about it: “…the poem isn’t parroting the old ‘vote because it’s your civic DUTY’ line; it’s saying something more specific, and more meaningful. It’s connecting the listener– especially the listener who may not come from a privileged place in society– to a history of struggle, not to mention a *present* in which far too many people have had their rights stripped away. That connection drives the call-to-action.”
  • (2022 Update: I tried to write one myself. It did end up “going viral,” which doesn’t mean that it’s any good, but I think it does some work)

4. What does the world that we’re fighting for look like?

This could be a writing prompt on its own: describe a healthy, peaceful, just world. What does it look like? What does it sound like? What do you notice as you walk down the street? There’s also a deeper question in this prompt, though, something about the power of art to visualize movement goals before the policy/strategy language exists for them. Franny Choi’s “Field Trip to the Museum of Human History” does this. Sci-fi work from writers like NK Jemisin does this. A few thoughts:

  • That world doesn’t have to be perfect. In fact, it can be powerful to acknowledge that a healthy, peaceful, just world isn’t necessarily a utopia– people will still struggle. But maybe there’s something about that struggle that’s different. Maybe describing paradise’s problems can give us perspective on our own.
  • A useful quote from the editors of Octavia’s Brood, an anthology of visionary fiction: “Whenever we try to envision a world without war, without violence, without prisons, without capitalism, we are engaging in an exercise of speculative fiction. Organizers and activists struggle tirelessly to create and envision another world, or many other worlds, just as science fiction does… so what better venue for organizers to explore their work than through writing original science fiction stories?”

5. How can radical, progressive, anti-authoritarian art subvert expectations? How can it be funnier, or weirder, or more adventurous?

This one is maybe a little more general. I’m just wondering about the possibilities in humor, in sci-fi and fantasy, in pushing the boundaries of how “political art” has come to be understood. Especially in slam poetry (just as an example), we all already know what a political slam poem sounds like. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with that, either; sometimes, the best approach is direct: the serious call-to-action, the powerful exploration of an issue. But because those expectations exist, there is opportunity in subverting them. How can the previous four points here be explored via outside-the-box, off-the-wall approaches? A few thoughts:

  • Humor is, of course, tricky. There’s a danger in making light of serious issues. I’d always recommend getting feedback on “funny” poems before sharing them with the world. But when it’s done well, it’s so powerful. I’m thinking of this “All Lives Matter” poem, or “Dinosaurs in the Hood,” or the incredible “Pigeon Man” (which, I would argue, opens with some humor but is actually not supposed to be a funny poem, even though the audience keeps laughing– again, humor can be risky).
  • It’s been useful to me to think of political art on a spectrum: on one side, there’s work that’s so blunt, so straightforward, that it’s just kind of boring. On the other side, there’s work that’s so ultra-adventurous and boundary-pushing that it’s completely opaque; if people don’t get it, they won’t be moved by it. But there’s lots of room in the middle. It can be helpful to think about who the audience is for a particular piece, and what we’d like them to walk away with. But that’s a whole other post.

I hope there’s something here that can be generative or useful. This is definitely a challenge to myself, more than it is for anyone else. But please feel free to share if you end up writing something.

A few other links/resources people may be interested in:

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“Right now, I feel a need for all of us to breathe fire.” –Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez

With more and more discourse lately (online and in real life) about how corrupt and out-of-touch the super-rich are, I wanted to share a few thoughts and links related to this song. “You Say ‘Millionaire’ Like It’s A Good Thing” has been around for a few years– the original version of the song is available here, and the lyrics are included in my book. This remix, courtesy of Big Cats, is the song’s Final Form– a lean, focused burst of venom directed at the rich.

As a writer and as an activist, I’m really interested in the power of language to reframe issues. It’s important to write songs and poems that describe poverty, that tell our stories, and that call us to action toward economic justice; this song, however, was an attempt to do something a little more specific: to reframe the accumulation of wealth as something that is not just “an unfortunate side effect of the system,” but rather as something that is *morally* reprehensible.

There are caveats; I’m reminded of Jay-Z’s “If you grew up with holes in your zapatos/ you’d celebrate the minute you was having dough.” The argument here isn’t that all rich people are “bad” on an individual level (although many absolutely are!); it’s that a system that makes it possible for the distribution of wealth to be so extremely, so obscenely skewed is flat-out wrong. It is directly responsible for the death and suffering of too many people.

And sure, we can have conversations about how wealth is relative, how even working class people in the US “have it better” than x, y, or z other group… but that’s part of the point of the song too– there’s a point where that relativity fails. Maybe it’s not at a million dollars exactly; but somewhere on the wealth spectrum, earning becomes hoarding. Need becomes greed. Here are some articles that go more in-depth; I hope they can be useful, especially as so many of us are watching the 2020 candidates navigate this issue:

Christopher Ingraham: “Wealth concentration returning to ‘levels last seen during the Roaring Twenties,’ according to new research” (Washington Post): “American wealth is highly unevenly distributed, much more so than income. According to Zucman’s latest calculations, today the top 0.1 percent of the population has captured nearly 20 percent of the nation’s wealth, giving them a greater slice of the American pie than the bottom 80 percent of the population combined.”

Farhad Manjoo: “Abolish Billionaires” (NYT): “But the adulation we heap upon billionaires obscures the plain moral quandary at the center of their wealth: Why should anyone have a billion dollars, why should anyone be proud to brandish their billions, when there is so much suffering in the world?”

Sophie Weiner: “AOC: A Society With Billionaires Cannot Be Moral” (Splinter): “‘The question of marginal tax rates is a policy question but it’s also a moral question,’ Ocasio-Cortez said. ‘What kind of society do we want to live in? Are we comfortable with a society where someone can have a personal helipad while this city is experiencing the highest levels of poverty and homelessness since the Great Depression?'”

A.Q. Smith: “It’s Basically Just Immoral To Be Rich” (Current Affairs): “It is not justifiable to retain vast wealth. This is because that wealth has the potential to help people who are suffering, and by not helping them you are letting them suffer. It does not make a difference whether you earned the vast wealth. The point is that you have it. And whether or not we should raise the tax rates, or cap CEO pay, or rearrange the economic system, we should all be able to acknowledge, before we discuss anything else, that it is immoral to be rich. That much is clear.”

Charles Mathewes and Evan Sandsmark: “Being rich wrecks your soul. We used to know that.” (Washington Post): “As stratospheric salaries became increasingly common, and as the stigma of wildly disproportionate pay faded, the moral hazards of wealth were largely forgotten. But it’s time to put the apologists for plutocracy back on the defensive, where they belong — not least for their own sake. After all, the Buddha, Aristotle, Jesus, the Koran, Jimmy Stewart, Pope Francis and now even science all agree: If you are wealthy and are reading this, give away your money as fast as you can.”

Emmie Martin: “Here’s how much money you need to be happy, according to a new analysis by wealth experts” (CNBC): “‘The lower a person’s annual income falls below that benchmark, the unhappier he or she feels. But no matter how much more than $75,000 people make, they don’t report any greater degree of happiness,’ Time reported in 2010, citing a study from Princeton University conducted by economist Angus Deaton and psychologist Daniel Kahneman.”

Jesus, in the Bible: “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God! Indeed, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

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“Where I’m from is where I’m from and not where I was put.”

I’m highlighting some older poems that are personal favorites of mine (although this particular entry was a suggestion from poet Fatima Camara– thanks!); it’s a way to shout out some good work, and also to analyze some tools and tactics that poets use that might be useful to aspiring writers. Find the full list here.

We could talk about how this poem is actually a series of poems, performed back-to-back without breaks. But whether we hear this as a series, or as one poem that features multiple movements, I think the more important thing is the overall effect.

As a poet, you can show up and just read your ten best poems, sure; or you can be intentional with how you put those poems into conversation with one another. You can structure how you want your 15 minutes (or 5, or 30, or whatever) to move, to flow, to breathe. You can juxtapose ideas and techniques so that the set as a whole becomes even more powerful than the sum of its parts. This process is an integral part of writing a book, but can definitely apply to live performance too.

It’s maybe worth pausing for a second to ask whether hearing an entire set, with none of the witty banter or joking between the poems that are so common in spoken word spaces, is jarring. A followup could be whether that “jarring” is constructive or distracting. I think a lot of us would probably agree that with this poem, it’s constructive– it gives the poem(s) a tension and energy that undergirds the emotions and ideas being grappled with.

In general, and at the risk of saying something super obvious, I think banter-between-poems is good when it’s good and bad when it’s bad. Sometimes, pausing between poems to talk can frame or contextualize poems in a powerful way. Sometimes it can cultivate intimacy with the audience. Sometimes it can give the audience a moment to breathe, and give a set a kind of rhythm that draws focus to the poems. Other times, of course, it can be super annoying.

I think this video shows the power of letting the poetry speak for itself, of breaking outside the mold of what a spoken word set is supposed to look/sound like, and of subverting the audience’s expectations. There are a million other things to explore regarding the fantastic line-by-line writing on display here, not to mention the actual substance/ideas the poem(s) explores–  but I’ll leave it there for now. Feel free to add more thoughts in the comments.

More:

  • Find more from Safia Elhillo (including booking info, social media links, and more) here.
  • My full list of poem commentary/essays here.

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“From the stage, you can’t see the hyenas; but you can hear them barking. Your job is to be meat dangling, to tease out the barking…”

I’m highlighting some older poems that are personal favorites of mine; it’s a way to shout out some good work, and also to analyze some tools and tactics that poets use that might be useful to aspiring writers. Find the full list here.

There are two things on my mind right now. First, this poem has been a favorite of mine for years, and it’s always fun to share great poems with people. Second, I get a lot of messages from poets asking for feedback on their work, and I think this poem kind of crystallizes at least some of the feedback I end up giving to 99% of people. And with Button Poetry’s chapbook contest now open, I wanted to share a couple of observations that might be useful to aspiring/emerging poets out there.

To be clear, these aren’t rules, or some kind of step-by-step guide to writing good poetry; these are just things that I notice in THIS poem that I carry with me into my own writing.

1. The very first line of this poem is an image. It’s not a “here’s what I think” statement or some abstract, philosophical pondering about the universe. It’s “there’s a dark club, full of hyenas, barking at an empty stage.” You can see it. You can hear it. You can smell it. Right away. And look: a poem doesn’t have to start with an image; that’s not a rule. But for me, as a reader/listener, it’s one of the most basic things a writer can do to capture my attention. It’s also one of the most basic things that a whole lot of aspiring poets don’t do.

2. The poem is made up of stories. There’s some really powerful connective tissue in the poem, but the “bones” of the poem (as I see it) are small stories, anecdotes, moments, and memories. Again, there’s no rule that says that “good” poetry has to have a narrative element– it doesn’t. But stories are powerful. Both in terms of grabbing the audience’s attention and communicating something deep via images. Some poems are built around one story; this one uses a bunch of little stories to paint an impressionistic picture of the deeper truth the poem is trying to point toward.

3. The poem is emotional and personal without being strictly autobiographical. I want to be careful here: I’m not saying that autobiographical or confessional poetry is bad– it has the potential to be just as good or bad as any other kind of poetry. I’m just excited by poems that can be this honest, and create this kind of emotional energy, via other avenues; I think that’s a useful tool/approach, especially for those of us who maybe don’t want to write directly and explicitly about our real-life trauma. To use myself as an example, I’ve often said that this is my most personal poem, even though it’s obviously not a true story. I think part of poetry is being able to make connections, to juxtapose stories and create dialogue between the personal, the universal, and the space in between.

4. On a delivery level, it’s straightforward without being dull, and theatrical without being T H E A T R I C A L. Of course, other listeners can disagree with me, but I love how this poem is performed. Spoken word’s connection to theater sometimes manifests as pure leave-it-all-on-the-stage volume, or melodrama (both of which I’ve been guilty of). But there are moments in this performance that are just chilling; the conversational/understated delivery really propels a deep emotional intensity. I know this point may be less relevant to people preparing their manuscripts, but it’s maybe worth thinking about how that dynamic lives in our writing too, and not just in performance.

5. This poem has a strong hook. I’ve written about hooks before, but the basic idea, for me, is that the hook is the concept, the organizing principle of the poem. It’s what makes a poem stand out– whether that means stand out from all poems in general, or stand out from poems that tackle the same subject matter. This poem has a laser-specific topic and knows what it wants to say about that topic. There aren’t a dozen other poems about the same thing that I can pull up on YouTube right now. A strong hook doesn’t necessarily make a poem good, but it very often makes it more memorable.

6. Finally, I think one of the functions of poetry is to recontextualize, especially things we think we already understand, and this poem is a devastating example of that. The stories about famous comedians aren’t just random factoids; they build upon each other, supporting the thesis of the poem indirectly, until that thesis is made explicit in the famous (well, famous in the circles I run in, haha) line playing with the word “spite.” The poem has levels too: even if it were just literally about the idea that comedians sometimes pull their material from dark places/experiences, it’d be powerful; but I’d argue that it taps into something more universal about the nature of the relationship between spite and survival, something so many artists– and hell, non-artists too– can relate to.

So again, just a few things I notice in this poem; I hope they can be useful to any of you prepping chapbook submissions.

More:

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(Note: this zine is from 2018, but the text here has been edited and updated since then)

A big part of the work that I do is traveling to colleges and high schools to talk about consent and gender violence prevention. For me, though, that conversation can’t just be about prevention on an individual, “being a better person” level. Of course, that’s an important part of it. But when we talk about sexual assault, we’re not just talking about individual perpetrators, individual survivors, and individual bystanders—we’re talking about a culture. How do we shift culture?

An activity that we often do is to put up three big sheets of paper, and ask the question: HOW DO WE BUILD A CULTURE OF CONSENT? One sheet is for things we can do as individuals, on our own. One is for things we can do in community, with our friends, family, and peers. One is for things we can do to shift policy in a larger-scale, sustainable way.

The idea is that the activity becomes a visualization of action ideas—it’s big, messy, and includes steps that experienced organizers can take right next to steps that someone who is having this conversation for the very first time can take. It shows that we have agency. We have power.

For this new zine, I wanted to share some of the results of this activity, some of the action ideas that thousands of students, survivors, advocates, and organizers across the country shared. It’s short, of course, but can hopefully spark some conversations, and some action. Please feel free to share, or even to download and print/fold some zines yourself (here are cutting/folding directions). Full text here:

What Is Consent?

“Consent is a mutual verbal, physical, and emotional agreement that happens without manipulation, threats, or head games.” (Project Respect)

“[Affirmative consent is]” “Informed, freely and affirmatively communicated willingness to participate in sexual activity that is expressed by clear and unambiguous words or actions.” (The Aurora Center)

“The idea of enthusiastic consent is quite simple. In a nutshell, it advocates for enthusiastic agreement to sexual activity, rather than passive agreement.” (Persephone Magazine)

Consent is… (via Planned Parenthood)

  • Freely given. Consenting is a choice you make without pressure, manipulation, or under the influence of drugs or alcohol.
  • Reversible. Anyone can change their mind about what they feel like doing, anytime. Even if you’ve done it before, and even if you’re both naked in bed.
  • Informed. You can only consent to something if you have the full story. For example, if someone says they’ll use a condom and then they don’t, there isn’t full consent.
  • Enthusiastic. When it comes to sex, you should only do stuff you WANT to do, not things that you feel you’re expected to do.
  • Specific. Saying yes to one thing (like going to the bedroom to make out) doesn’t mean you’ve said yes to others (like having sex).

“Up until recently, the prevailing theory of consent was ‘no means no,’ which often translated to ‘I can do whatever I want unless I hear a firm, clear, verbal no.’ Even if the person was drunk or high. Even if the person seemed unsure or had stiff body language. Happily, things started to change around 2008, with the publication of an anthology called Yes Means Yes!: Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape, edited by Jessica Valenti and Jaclyn Friedman. The book stressed the theory that consent wasn’t just a legal term used during rape trials, but the bare-minimum requirement for pleasurable sex. It helped popularize the terms ‘affirmative consent’ and ‘enthusiastic consent’ — the idea that both partners need to actively, emphatically agree to every step of a sexual encounter.” (Teen Vogue)

Practicing consent is vital, but ending sexual assault will take more than all of us just being better individuals. So how do we build a culture of consent? This document shares a few ideas pulled from conversations with advocates, activists, students, and survivors around the US:

As Individuals, We Can Level Up

Learn more about these issues via books (check out the last section below for some recommendations), articles, podcasts, classes, and more.

Especially for men: “unlearning” some of what we’re taught about masculinity and sex can be necessary. Lots of useful resources here.

Practice consent in your relationships: Be present. Communicate, listen, and ask questions. This video has more.

It isn’t just about sex; practice consent in other areas of your life too: ask before giving someone a hug, taking their picture, etc. Let children know that they can always say “no” to tickling, kisses, etc.

Understand consent beyond the “dominant narrative.” Consent matters in same-sex relationships, for people outside the gender binary, and beyond. While most perpetrators of sexual assault are men, men can also be victim/survivors.

Get plugged in: do a quick online search to find local and/or national organizations (or individuals) doing work to support survivors and end rape culture, and join their email lists, follow them on social media, or attend their events. I list a few examples in the “resources” section below.

Believe survivors. Start from a place of listening to, and taking seriously, those who come forward.

In Community, We Can Step Up

Dialogue. Spark conversations with friends and family. Join a book club or discussion circle where people can meet up, share their experiences, and build community. If you’re a student, take a class that explores these issues.

Speak out. Post links on social media. Write blog posts and letters-to-the-editor. Signal-boost the voices of organizers, advocates, and survivors.

Challenge the myths. From the prevalence of false accusations, to the idea that “boys will be boys,” to all kinds of victim-blaming nonsense: learn to spot these myths, and how to dismantle them.

Especially for men: bring these conversations into spaces where they aren’t already happening. Refuse to laugh at sexist or violent jokes. Call people out. Support survivors. Don’t just “be” a good guy, put your values and principles into action.

Support survivors. For a great list of “dos” and “don’ts,” check out “Supporting a Survivor: The Basics” at www.knowyourix.org.

Create art. Broadcast. Plant seeds. Whatever platform you have access to, no one else has that same access. You can also share existing art; for example, here’s a list of poems about consent and healthy sexuality.

Talk to the next generation. Whether we’re parents, older siblings, teachers, or other adult role models, let’s have open, honest conversations with the young people in our lives about consent. Check out the National Sexual Violence Resource Center’s “6 Resources to Help Parents Talk to Kids About Consent.”

Bystander Intervention: Remember that it’s not just about perpetrators and victims. We can all disrupt harmful—or potentially harmful—situations. Whether you’re at a party and you witness someone trying to take advantage of someone else, or you’re on the bus and someone is being harassed, or you’re just on the internet and someone is saying harmful things, a great introduction to what individuals can do is Right To Be’s “5Ds of Bystander Intervention.”

On that last note, I’d also recommend this video, and this article, which both acknowledge the power of the bystander intervention approach while sharing some necessary critiques; a quote from the latter:

Maybe bystander intervention can be radically re-imagined, not as momentary interference in “isolated” instances of violence but as a consistent, collective effort at victim-centered justice, accountability, and support, one that extends long before and long after any particular “incident” of violence. (source)

To Shift Policy and Culture, We Can Show Up

Show up. Find organizations doing work to support survivors and cultivate a culture of consent, and support them via donations, signal-boosting, volunteering, organizing fundraiser events, or joining them– you can become an advocate too. Of course, not everyone can “show up” in the same ways. That’s okay. No single individual has to do every thing here. But we can all do something.

Vote for candidates who share your values on these issues. Advocate for them. Volunteer for their campaigns. Get better people into positions of power. Voting alone won’t solve this problem, but it can help set the stage for future work.

Plan for the future: If you’re a student, meet up with your advisor to find some classes that might put you on a career path to do this work for a living.

Do the work where you are. Make sure your school, business, or organization has effective protocols in place for dealing with accusations of harassment or sexual assault, as well as plans to help cultivate a culture of consent, respect, and support before any harm occurs.

Organize! Here are some specific policies that people around the country have fought for and won:

  • Campus affirmative consent policies.
  • K-12 consent education.
  • Comprehensive sexual education in schools.
  • More engaging, more critical, more effective consent ed content in first-year orientation programs.
  • Funding for survivor advocacy organizations and/or student groups that work on these issues.
  • Resources for holding perpetrators of sexual harassment or assault accountable outside of the criminal justice system, like community-centered transformative justice practices.

RESOURCES:
A few organizations (among many):

And a few suggested readings:

  • “Yes Means Yes!: Visions of Female Sexual Power and A World Without Rape” (Friedman and Valenti)
  • “Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture” (ed. Gay)
  • “Ask: Building Consent Culture” (ed. Stryker)
  • “Queering Sexual Violence: Radical Voices from Within the Anti-Violence Movement” (ed. Patterson)
  • “The Hunting Ground: The Inside Story of Sexual Assault on American College Campuses” (Documentary and Book)
  • “The Beginning and End of Rape: Confronting Sexual Violence in Native America” (Deer)
  • “Asking for It: The Alarming Rise of Rape Culture–and What We Can Do about It” (Harding)
  • “Not On My Watch: A Handbook for the Prevention of Sexual Violence” (Rotman)
  • “Know My Name” (Miller)
  • “Unbound: My Story of Liberation and the Birth of the Me Too Movement” (Burke)

Obviously, there are many more. With the format I’m using for this, space is limited. On here, however, I’d also point people to this list of poems (plus links/readings) dealing with these issues that may be useful as conversation starters or teaching tools.

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“Vote. Because this system should serve more than those who clutch dead ideals and documents drenched in dust; it should serve us”

I’m highlighting some older poems that are personal favorites of mine; it’s a way to shout out some good work, and also to analyze some tools and tactics that poets use that might be useful to aspiring writers. Find the full list here.

This month, I wanted to share this Tish Jones poem (via TakeAction MN, shot by Line Break Media, featuring music by Big Cats too!) for three reasons:

1. First, Tish is the Executive Director of TruArtSpeaks, an organization I just donated $1000 to, because I’ve seen firsthand how powerful and vital their work is. There are just a few days left to reach this year’s $10k fundraising goal, so PLEASE consider joining me in powering that work.

2. Second, this is a poem about the importance of voting. I write something about voting pretty much every year, and have a post coming with more thoughts and resources related to that. For now, though, I think this poem is a great reminder for those of us (especially those of us who CAN vote) who aren’t already plugged in to plug the hell in. Schedule time to do it. Ask questions and gather resources if you need to. Find local organizations like TakeAction MN and dive in, volunteer for campaigns, have a plan.

In the wake of the Kavanaugh confirmation, people are hurting, and angry, and sad. That’s all valid. Voting absolutely isn’t the only thing we can do. But it is one concrete action that can contribute to the larger movement-building work that needs to happen. Again, I’ll be sharing more links and resources later this month. Oh also note, that this video is from 2014, and election day THIS year is not 11/4– it’s 11/6.

3. Finally, on a form level, this is a great poem to analyze in the context of the question: how do we effectively construct calls-to-action in poems? I just had a great workshop/conversation with some poets over at Macalester College where we discussed this, and it’s a question that I am personally invested in asking wherever I go, especially when working with other poets. It is skill to be able to write a poem that isn’t just “right” or “compelling” about whatever topic it’s exploring, but has some kind of concrete action to share with its audience. It’s hard to do well. It’s easy to be corny, or preachy, or just not very interesting.

I think this poem succeeds for a few reasons:

  • The poem knows what it is. I get a very clear sense of who Tish is and what she values, as well as who the target audience of the poem is.
  • On a craft level, there’s a lot of attention paid to sonic elements like assonance, alliteration, repetition and rhyme. It works as a poem first. Especially with the first point here in mind, it’s engaging in terms of how it flows and choices made around sound.
  • It’s short. Brevity matters in general, but especially for this kind of poem, it can’t drag on for five minutes. Make it punchy. Make your point and bounce.
  • The poem uses juxtaposition in a subtle but powerful way– large and small, ancestors and future generations, the powers-that-be and the power we have access to– all of these frameworks and set up in an intentional way that flows into the larger statement that the poem is making.
  • On a content level, the poem isn’t parroting the old “vote because it’s your civic DUTY” line; it’s saying something more specific, and more meaningful. It’s connecting the listener– especially the listener who may not come from a privileged place in society– to a history of struggle, not to mention a *present* in which far too many people have had their rights stripped away. That connection drives the call-to-action. The poem does a lot of work in just a minute-and-a-half.
One of the central questions we ask in these conversations about anthems and calls-to-action is about whether the poem that wins a poetry slam, or goes viral on the internet, can also be performed at a rally. Or a fundraiser. Or an improvised protest. The answer is very often no, because those kinds of poems require an approach that we don’t always learn– whether we come from the MFA world or the slam poetry world. It is possible to write those poems, though, as Tish demonstrates here. It is also necessary, especially in this historical moment.

Further Reading:

  • Find more from Tish Jones (and book her for your college, conference, etc.) here.
  • Find more about TruArtSpeaks on all social media: @TruArtSpeaks
  • Find a full list of my poem commentary/analysis essays here.

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“We aren’t teaching our boys to be men; we are teaching them not to be women. And what does that say about women?”

 I’ve been doing weekly write-ups of certain poems on Button Poetry’s channel, but I also wanted to highlight some older poems that are personal favorites of mine, which I’ll be doing once per month here. It’s a way to shout out some good work, and also to highlight some tools and tactics that poets use that might be useful to aspiring writers.

First, I know this is an older poem from Donte, and they have a whole book of newer poems, as well as dozens of videos online. I also know that as poets, we don’t always love drawing attention to our older work, but I wanted to highlight this poem for a couple of reasons.

First, even if Donte has grown as a writer and performer since this poem, this poem still has so much to offer. Using the Happy Meal toy imagery as a very small, concrete entry-point to a much deeper exploration of how we’re socialized to internalize the gender binary is powerful. Moving from that into Disney princess imagery, into middle school bullying and sports imagery– the poem is a waterfall of examples that support the poem’s message. I’ve talked a lot about structure in this series, and this poem demonstrates the idea of a structural impulse– not a strict, formulaic set of rules, but rather an intentionality around how an argument is constructed– beautifully.

I know educators often use my poems (like this one and this one) in conversations about how masculine identities are formed and enforced, and how that so often connects to violence; I hope that Donte’s poem (as well as others from this list I put together) can be added to the arsenal for those discussions. Because poems like these weave together personal narrative and concrete examples, they can be useful entry-points, something beyond a basic powerpoint presentation or whatever.

I also share this poem, however, because this video was taken at one of TruArtSpeaks‘ Be Heard poetry slams, and I wanted to give a shout out to TruArtSpeaks and how important that work is in the current climate. We’re actually right in the middle of a campaign to raise $10k before October 15; ALL of that money goes directly into programming that ensures young people have opportunities to not only tell their stories and express themselves, but also to access high-quality mentorship and arts-educational opportunities. We run a free, all-ages open mic every week (Thursdays, 6-8pm at Golden Thyme Cafe), engage in dozens of school residencies every year, host all kinds of workshops and writing circles, organize the Be Heard series (every January-March), and more.

Donte was actually the first person this year to put up $1k for the rest of us to match. That generosity is a testament to the power of this work. Please consider joining the cypher and helping to power this work. You can donate here.

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Dry-mouthed, we came upon a contraption
of chain and bolt, an ancient torture instrument
the guide called “handcuffs.”

I’ve been doing weekly write-ups of certain poems on Button Poetry’s channel, but I also wanted to highlight some older poems that are personal favorites of mine, which I’ll be doing once per month here. It’s a way to shout out some good work, and also to highlight some tools and tactics that poets use that might be useful to aspiring writers.

No video this month, but the audio of this poem is posted above, and you can find the full text here. I’ve been thinking a lot about this poem recently– partly because of the cool things that MPD150 has been up to here in Minneapolis. For those who don’t know, MPD150 is a project that a group of local activists and artists launched in 2017, the 150th anniversary of the Minneapolis Police Department. Through research and interviews, the group put together a history of the MPD, plus a look at the present (focusing on how police intersect with other elements of the city), plus a few thoughts on what the future might look like.

Specifically, we’re talking about a future without the police.

That might sound radical or utopian (or dystopian, depending on your politics), but a big part of MPD150’s work has been to strive to shift the narrative around policing. Do police truly “protect and serve?” If they do, do they do it for everyone? Do police make us safe? What other ways exist for us to solve our problems without police?

Some of that work comes through the report itself, some through writing like this “Frequently Asked Questions” feature, and quite a bit through art. Some locals may know Junauda Petrus’ poem “Can We Please Give The Police Department To The Grandmothers?,” which was featured at the report launch. Others may have attended our sold-out show at Moon Palace Books last month featuring a few poets (including me) sharing work around police abolition. This fall, MPD150 will be launching an art exhibit based on the report (more on that soon).

I won’t get into ALL of the ins and outs of that work here, but the basic idea is that if we truly want healthy and safe communities, we don’t need more cops– we need more jobs, more youth programs, more art, more access to health care, better schools, and a whole range of things that actually prevent crime rather than just punish it. It’s easy to forget that police, as an institution, have not always existed. They’re not some absolutely fundamental force within human society. Part of the work of abolition is to imagine– to envision a better way of handling our problems and issues.

This poem takes that premise– that we need to be able to visualize the future we want in order to work toward it– and brings it to life via a slice-of-life exploration of a trip to a museum. That act of de-contextualizing something so many of us take for granted (in this case, police) is such a powerful poetic tactic– it allows us to see not just how brutal the status quo is, but how bizarre it is too. I hear this poem’s analysis of nightsticks, handcuffs, and fingerprinting, and immediately recall one of my favorite passages from the MPD150 report’s “Future” section:

Imagine that you were asked to help create stability in a newly-founded city. How would you try to solve the problems that your friends and neighbors encountered? How would you respond to crisis and violence? Would your *first* choice be an unaccountable army with a history of oppression and violence patrolling your neighborhood around the clock?

This poem brings that question to its logical conclusion: no, there are better ways for us to look out for one another. There are more important things to fund. There are pathways forward to preventing violence and harm and not just punishing it after the fact, destroying lives in the process. We just need to be able to imagine it first.

Further Reading:

  • Find more from Franny Choi (including more poems) here.
  • Book Franny Choi at your college/conference/etc. here.
  • Full list of my poem commentary/analysis essays.
  • Related: My latest poem/video, “Police Make the Best Poets.”
  • Check out MPD150 here, especially their big page of resources and further reading.

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And they call us dirty/ as if being covered in the earth is wrong/ as if the dirt has ever held our throats and threatened to kill our mothers…

I’ve been doing weekly write-ups of certain poems on Button Poetry’s channel, but I also wanted to highlight some older poems that are personal favorites of mine, which I’ll be doing once per month here. It’s a way to shout out some good work, and also to highlight some tools and tactics that poets use that might be useful to aspiring writers.

In the US, the dominant conversations about racism and xenophobia don’t always leave enough room to discuss history. Our “diversity” trainings maybe teach us how to sound less racist, or be more open-minded about “tolerating” other people, but they don’t generally discuss the web of policy, power, and history upon which this country (and not only this country) is built.

And we can’t really talk about racism, colorism, or xenophobia without first talking about colonization. The narrative that “we are a nation of immigrants” may often be invoked with good intentions (especially at this particular historical moment), but it also erases the history of millions of people who were already here—and who remain here. This poem is a history lesson, but also illuminates how that history is still with us. “If you are alive, you are descended from a people who refused to die.”

I think a lot about “the work” that a poem is doing. It’s not just what a poem is about, or how well-written it is; it’s about who wrote it, who it is for, who is listening to it, and the space that it takes up in the world (and in the larger collective conversation). This poem does work– both on a historical, counter-narrative level, and also on a deeply personal level. A line like “the western world would have you believe that only what is written is true/ we never really lose our ancestors/ do you feel them in the room with you now?” so deftly intertwines the personal and the political, the universal and the specific– and that, on some fundamental level, at least for me, is what poetry is all about.

Further Reading:

  • Find more from Ariana Brown (including more poems) here.
  • Book Ariana Brown at your college/conference/etc. here.
  • Full list of my poem commentary/analysis essays.