At what seems like long last, I have compiled the list for the SABEM playlist!
See what I came up with below-
Follow your girl on a streaming platform
-Apple Music: HisGirlFriday38
-Spotify: ShesAGirlFriday
HisGirlFriday is a play on the movie with Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell. The name: His Girl Friday.
My maternal aunt used to call me a “Girl Friday”, and I thought it was much cooler than being called a secretary.
Enjoy dearest ones!
I so love new music recommendations.
“I’m just trying to be me…”
-Lil Kim
This week was hard, loves.
When I started this week? There was all matter of dopeness! And as the week ends? I almost have a panic attack.
Why?
Money.
It always, always, always comes down to money.
These past 8 weeks have been something serious! I mean it truly has. When my husband told me to go back to school while I’m on this hiatus from work, I said why not. But in the ‘why not’ I knew that my financial aid was sketchy at worst and iffy at best! There were things that I needed to do–still haven’t done!–but this whole semester has been based in faith.
Let me tell you something. This how all this came to be.
I took a nursing exam for a LPN program and passed. Awesome! But, there are multiple hoops I had to jump through before I could ever start! One of them is I had to go through three interviews before I could even be let in! On top of paperwork, immunizations and other academic scrutiny. I was so frustrated. And I cried.
My husband, seeing me cry, offered that I should go back to school. Finish the English degree. In the course of a Saturday afternoon this happened–
I got a degree audit. I was able to reapply to my program. I only needed 9 hours, not the 12. This meant I could graduate in December. In reapplying, I got to start in Fall 2019, not Spring 2020. I started class that Tuesday.
I believe that God was tired of me fearing what it is I was supposed to do: I am a writer, not a scientist.
I am a healer of a different source…and that is okay.
______________
The dope thing that happened this week:
My professor, Dr. Welch, put me up on game. She asked me after turning in my second reflection paper, she asked if I was an undergrad student or graduate student (I’m an undergrad–last semester). Then she said this:
“I don’t know what your life journey includes, but you should consider grad school.”
You have to know what this means. A Black professor, of English, saw a Black student–and her promise–and told her to dream. Bruh! Not even dream, but prepare to take over! She told me that there is a way to complete my Master’s degree, and get paid to finish my doctorate. As a Black woman, in doing being in halls of academia–like a college–that would allow me to be in a space of influence that just being a freelance writer cannot touch.
Besides, the goal of the artist is to disturb the peace. What better way to do that than by degree at a time?
“Big sh-t, poppin, little sh-t stoppin’ “
-Clifford “T.I.” Harris
This week? Mane. You remember the paper I told you about that I got a whole 60 on? Well, when I resubmitted it, I got a 92. A 92/100. Bruh. I shouted! I really did! I am now at a 83.5 in Prof. Welch’s class (this is a B-). And this week we started If Beale Street Could Talk? And we have to write a reflection on this? And I love Baldwin?
I am now in a sweet spot for this semester–at least for this week.
In my 4700 class (yes, with Dr. Wall!) we are discussing the poet/writer Tess Gallagher. And with any English class, there will be paper writing. We have a paper that is due in about two weeks. The cool thing is if we do this right, this paper can be used as a basis towards our final paper.
This paper has to be 5 pages. The final paper has to be conference length. This means it has to be ten pages: nine full length pages, with the tenth being for citation. I decided to do my paper on Lucille Clifton.
Dr. Wall had us to write a thesis and be prepared to discuss it in class this week. My thesis? Glad you asked:
“The relevance of Lucile Clifton is demonstrated in the canon of American writers because, in the words of Toni Morrison, she helps to decolonize the canon.”
I know, I know. It’s lit.
Not only did Dr. Wall validate my thesis, not only did she champion it, not only did she see how excited I was to write it, she helped to develop my thesis! She helped all of us develop my thesis! This middle-aged White woman, whom is a fan of African-American literature, told me–an African-American undergrad–to write this paper. Like lean into it an write it! She also gave our class this other tidbit.
Dr. Wall reminded us to keep all of our papers. In the case of Lucille Clifton, there has not been enough critically written about her. This just means there has not been enough people whom have engaged her work. There haven’t been enough people that thought enough about her work to ask questions about it.
Trust, I am already thinking about this final paper. I am already thinking about my analysis. I am already thinking about the contrast I want. I am already thinking about where I could send it if Dr. Wall gives her blessing that the work is good enough.
At this point? I’m counting the weeks. I am about 8 weeks out of completing my undergrad. And I get to wear the stole of my father’s fraternity (Kappa Alpha Psi)? I can’t help but think that Daddy would still have to smile at all this.
As long as it took–I still did it. I did it.
“Engage the text.”
-Professor Kimberly Welch
This week left the kid reeling. Like for real, reeling! I failed a quiz because there was a day I was so outta focus that I could not focus enough to read. And the book?
Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison.
Bruh.
I mean, I am a fan of Ellison! When I put just my name on that paper to take my quiz and nothing else? Humbling as loose drawls. I vowed right thing, RHETTHEN(!!!), I would not fail not nam nother quiz. But I had a check moment. When I saw that quiz, on the screen, and new I hadn’t read? I couldn’t stand my prof. The same woman I just quoted. The woman, a Black woman, whom has my dream job.
I had to sit with that. I thought she was too hard, thought she didn’t like me, and who did she thinks she was! But, dear ones, Prof. Welch is the first Black English professor I have had this institution! I had to respect her drive, respect for the subject matter, and had to respect her for demanding that a broad keep up! I had to think about what it was like for her, teaching a class where there are only two other Black women–and maybe six Black men.
I had to examine what made her seem to be an enemy, and not an ally. What I came up with? I wasn’t ready, and expected the rules to change for me–because she looked like me. The Black girl space, in that space, this space, excludes manipulation. I had to realize this grade is going to require all of me, and I ain’t scared of that.
But I carved out the Black girl space with a Black girl named, Bianca. Seeing a girl that looked like me, just as brilliant, in Prof. Welch’s class? This Black woman providing this space to discuss this text (Invisible Man) gave us this chance to deep breath. The cooler thing? We were in this group discussing this text with a girl that was not Black, but when we started crafting this space? She pulled back–she didn’t force her way in.
She pulled a curtain for us. I cannot tell you how dope that is.
There is space in this place, this realm for me–for us. I am charged to not just make space for me–but for those after.
The words are bigger than me.
“And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”
-Robert Frost, STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING
This whole week I have gone to my English classes this week listening to trap music. Let me tell you why.
Poetry is rap, rap is poetry.
Poetry is still elevated language.
But I digress…
This week I needed all my Blackness seen and reconfirmed. I needed to be seen and see those around me whom (as I say) do these words.
The aforementioned quote, I had quoted, and requoted, and forgot where I had gotten it from. This quote, this phrase, reminds that there is so much in me, and so much more that I have to do–and I cannot quit.
What made this week unique was I got humble. real quick.
For my English 3700 class, we are studying BELOVED. This is lit, especially after the loss of Toni Morrison. And my professor (in whole title, not just the colloquialism ‘Professor’), is a Black woman? MORE LIT.
But in trying to get my reading done, she was gracious enough to upload BELOVED on pdf. Now, I transferred into this class because I needed the credit, and needed Blackness and academia to intersect. I truly did! Finding this class was everything! Now, any English major will tell you that the hardest thing is the reading and keeping up with the reading. I fought with this pdf for 3 days! I couldn’t get it all to print, I didn’t see the highlighted stopping points and I wound up buying the book because the book was easier.
Enter the crazy part.
I got the copy of BELOVED. I looked at the syllabus. I got the page numbers and read. I was behind read 90 pages in about 5 hours. I thought I was caught up! But when I got to a certain point, I compared my page number to the pdf? I was still behind! Why? I had a paperback copy she had scanned the HARDBACK!
BRUH!
And although we don’t meet on Monday (my 3700 level class is M/W), we must have BELOVED red by Wednesday, and have 2 reflection papers due 9/9, and the new work started by then! The hustle, y’all. The hustle! But this is what I asked for; what God made space for.
My professor, Dr. Drucilla Wall says to never put the word, just in front of phrase ‘English major.’ Bet. Never again.
The MFA journey continues…
I walked into my first English class in six years last week.
The cool thing is that I’d taken a poetry course with this particular professor before! She was engaging, she was witty–and she thought my poetry was brilliant. After looking over my second chap book for the class (my final project), she gave me this direct quote:
“This is good. You need to start getting your published. And rejection? Get over it.”
This is was a realest thing any professor had ever told me. Still.
So imagine my surprise when I saw the reading list for this next 16 weeks, seeing this semester’s required reading as white as paper. I almost cried.
Here is why.
For my latest 6 year hiatus from academia, I’ve been in activism. I’ve been in circles to push for change, and run some of thee Blackest blog on the planet: The Ideal Firestarter for the last 3 years (year four starts January 2020! Go and be a #Torch!). I have leaned in and accepted this mantle as teacher and writer. I have some other things brewing to be shared by the end of the year. So, I walked into this class with a naivete people have when they believe they know something is happening–and have it under control!
I didn’t.
For the last 3-4 years I have been working this writing gift, and all I know, the biggest thing I had been screaming was visibility and representation. When I saw that reading list? I wanted to walk out! My heart that is still grieving the loss of Toni Morrison, that uses Lorde, Angelou, and Baldwin to cope with the national insanity, did not want to read Robert fucking Frost!
I had to settle my heart, loves. I discovered the work of Lucille Clifton–who I didn’t know she existed–and she’s Black! The part of me that was hurt by the lack of representation, wanted to quit! But the part of me that remembered the writers before me? Hughes, Hurston, Dunbar, Baldwin, Angelou and now Morrison–had to to deal with a much less melaninated canon! I had to stay–there is only one other Black girl in this class. I stayed because that’s what the writing ancestors would ask me to do.
I did my reading, did my assignment. And came to class Thursday–but know what?
Class was cancelled. Oh, well. #TheWritingContinues
JBHarris, future MFA recipient.
So, just like #TheMarathonContinues, so does the Push towards the MFA. With all that I have, and have to do, there needs to be a degree to go with it. Like, it or not, beloveds–some things just require paper. I am overjoyed at this new journey.
However, dearest ones, I had a moment of being crestfallen.
In my Major American Writers class, I was looking over the syllabus. And I saw no one I recognized that I knew would look like me. Until, I went to the book store and saw Lucille Clifton–one of my books which were required reading.
While I was relieved at seeing her face, I was frustrated that I had not heard of her before.
So, rather than sit in that kind of sorrow, I thought I would work it. Enter STRUGGLE OF A BLACK ENGLISH MAJOR (SABEM).
For the next 16 weeks, I’ll be cataloging this journey. This finding my place in this academic wilderness, only to not be seen in most of the writings in it! Or being more familiar with writers whom are not Black.
Toni Morrison said to ‘decolonize the canon’. I could not agree more. Look for reflections every Sunday, dear ones. We gon get through this together.
JBHarris, future MFA
