Voices, No Boundaries Conversation with Bill Berry- aaduna in exile spring 2021 issue, Vol. 10 No. 1
Voices, No Boundaries
(This category is a new feature for aaduna)
bill berry's conversation:
a chat with
Linda Gonzalez, MSW, MFA
Nagueyalti Warren, Ph.D.
October 2020 – March 2021
bill berry, jr. (bb:)
To start, I appreciate the time each of you will take to chat with me and one another. I trust we will have a lively and intriguing chat. So, let’s get started.
When Nagueyalti’s submitted work to aaduna, Linda, as
a contributing editor, was tasked with editing that submission. Needless to
say, I had no idea that your stars had aligned previously.
Can you describe that initial meeting (and any
impressions?) More so, what was your sense of
the ambiance, nuances, subtleties of the environment you were in and
your expectations?
NW
If I remember correctly, Linda came to Goddard as I was leaving. I do recall being delighted to see more people of color entering when I left in 2005. Goddard was interesting but isolating. In my two years of being in Vermont, I saw a total of 1, one, single, solitary Black man in the town of Plainfield. Campus was not greatly different, however, the people there, instructors included, were welcoming. I was surprised when Linda remembered me. As an alumna I had met only one other person, she might also recall, Gloria Lawson, who attended Goddard.
Linda, I think you were working on memoir and another
woman, Julia whose last name escapes me, was also working in the same area. I
worked with Mariana Romo-Carmona on my yet to be published novel. I enjoyed my
time at Goddard but wish they could have been more helpful in terms of
publications.
LG
Nagueyalti is speaking of our first meeting at Goddard’s
MFA program. I was in my first year and so grateful for the POC table and
second year students like Nagueyalti in the dining room where we met three
times daily, as it was a residency program where we came together every 6
months. It was my lifeline in the sea of white students, teachers, and state.
We were both in Mariana’s cohort, which was more diverse than any other. Fun
fact, Matthew Quick, who wrote the Silver Lining Playbook that was a successful
movie, was also in our group the one year we studied together. Yes, I remember
Julia as a no-nonsense woman – just called out what was going on! I remembered
Nagueyalti immediately upon seeing her name on the fiction submission – first
it is a memorable name, and secondly because the POC cohort at Goddard was
small and mighty. I have pictures I can dig up of Nagueyalti at Goddard!
bb:
In the early Eighties as I administered Antioch University’s degree programs throughout Maryland, Dr. Jackson Kytle was my graduate program studies administrator. After Antioch, Jackson was deputy provost at The New School in NYC and eventually became Goddard’s president in the early Nineties. Jackson was a “progressive,” activist, research scholar and teacher. Within that overarching narrative milieu that has also been Goddard’s historical tradition of innovative, experimental, “progressive” thinking, I wonder was the MFS program geared to really embrace the thinking of POC students or was that liberal tradition no different than what other elitist institutions publicly cast as their institutional profile?
More importantly, how did that academic experience
while you pursued a creative degree and your individual studies impact who you
were as a person at that time? I trust you were intrinsically driven to seek
out and exist within a safe, nurturing POC cohort but still, admittedly, you
remained under the aura of a dominate institutional culture that may not have
necessarily represented you, your thinking, and possibly your writings. And
just as importantly, how did that Goddard experience affect your sensibilities
as a writer, as a cultural worker as defined by Amiri Baraka, as well as the
original leadership of the Black Panther Party? And if I am off base in my “Monday
morning quarterbacking” after the fact assessments, please take me to task.
LG:
You raise many issues experience by many students in
MFA programs, including me. Like all “progressive” institutions, Goddard felt
itself above self-examination unless pushed. I proactively asked for Mariana
Romo-Cardona as my advisor so I could make sure I received feedback that was
culturally relevant. She had the most racially diverse cohort and the largest.
Like many faculty of color, she took on extra work and left for a sabbatical
after my first semester when Nagueyalti graduated. I asked her to keep me and
she agreed so I was her only student for a semester. I also made sure to
request that my second-year advisor be another woman of color, as I knew the
importance of having my voice both acknowledged and appropriately critiqued. I
facilitated a gathering at the end of my first residency with students and
faculty of color and the white MFA administration about equity issues and then
focused on my education and that of the small cohort of BIPOC (Black,
Indigenous, and People of Color) students. My experience of Goddard was no
different than in any majority white space, whether writing or otherwise. We
have to set our terms of engagement and never presume progressive white people
will set the table with us in mind. I will share one major victory. My second
semester, a white professor and I spoke about their “diversity” efforts. She
claimed what so many institutions claim – the inability to find people of color
for faculty. I named all the other ways they could amplify our voices. She took
it on, and for my last 3 residency weeks, every visiting writer who gave a talk
and interacted with students was not white. I had the joy of hearing and
meeting Walter Mosley, Claudia Rankine, Patricia Powell, and Nilo Cruz over my
last 3 residency weeks. (can’t find my pics of them so far – do have the
Nagueyalti pics!) I would prefer we now turn our attention to the work Nagueyalti,
and I did together so the focus is on our writing rather than on the white
institutions that still harm us.
NW:
What I will add is not much different from Linda’s
comments, but as a student at Goddard I was juggling my job as Associate Dean
of Emory College, a mother-in-law with failing health, a grandmother who passed
away; so, going through the program you could say I was somewhat distracted. As
a person of color, Mariana was the only instructor that “got” my meanings
without any questions asked. Others were well meaning but needed guidance when
I was there for them to guide me! Glad to move on as Linda suggests.
bb:
All points are well taken. So, how did the Goddard
residency experience shape your subsequent writing and what was the first work
that you produced after that activity?
In retrospect, how would you change that piece of writing now or does it
continue to stand on its own merits? And is there value to BIPOC aspiring
writers to seek writing residencies or is there an alternative platform to
grasp and embrace the value of a mentor/coach’s guidance that will strengthen
and embolden one’s writing career?
LG:
The good part of the Goddard curriculum is a finished,
technically publishable product, so I left with a solid manuscript of my
memoir. I then, through more feedback, stripped the structure down twice and
ultimately published it 10 years later so it did stand well, mostly due to my
two wonderful WOC advisors, Mariana Romo-Carmona, and Rahna Reiko Rizzuto. I
have no absolute answer as to the value of MFAs and residencies for BIPOC. They
bring much value and they also bring significant harm, steeped in whiteness as
they almost all are. I do absolutely embrace, encourage, provide, and receive
guidance – it is essential to writers who are contributing to a new and
significant canon of literature. There are more and more BIPOC-led courses,
coaches, and consultants and they are worth finding and supporting. There are
many paths to writing excellence but working without feedback and support is
not one of them. I have used writing groups, consultants, courses, conferences,
and books (both about writing and those that are beautifully written) to keep
me moving forward and will continue to do so.
NW:
Goddard and the MFA helped me most with the poetry
project that I had begun before coming to Goddard. I completed it at Goddard,
and it was published in 2008 and won the Naomi Long Madgett Poetry Prize.
Regarding the novel, it has been far more difficult to find a publisher. The
wonderful thing about my poetry is that at the time that I enrolled in Goddard,
I was also accepted into Cave Canem, a home for black poets. Being a Cave Canem
fellow was indeed life changing. The support that is missing in white dominated
groups is found in abundance at Cave Canem. In terms of my fiction, the
feedback from Linda on my story was a godsend. Feedback for writers, functions
as air. As soon as I am able, I intend focus singularly on my novel languishing
while I have continued to publish poetry. Lodestar, New and Selected Poems was
published in July. In terms of the degree, I think it depends on what a person
intends to do. The MFA is a terminal degree and can enable its holder to teach
in creative writing programs in colleges and universities. On the other hand, I
wanted the opportunity for a sustained period of time to study the craft of
writing. The program provided it. As Linda points out, reading, a large aspect
of the Goddard program, and writing groups are key. For some reason I find
myself in poetry writing groups far more frequently than for fiction. This
summer I had planned to attend the Hurston-Wright Fiction Writers workshop, but
Covid 19 upended those plans.
bb:
I appreciate the insights on the Goddard program, MFAs,
and the process of collaboration with other writers/poets. In the realm of
collaboration, exactly how did you specifically further empower each other’s
work. And is the length of time to progress from a “finished” manuscript to
publication routinely that long of a journey and how difficult is it to move
forward as a writer if there are other life responsibilities? How did being of
the same gender amplify or emboldened the colleagueship and how different is
the dynamic working with a male collaborator of the same culture and race
versus someone whose experiences are inherently different? And many blessings
to Cave Canem, an organization that has been and continues to be pivotal in the
development of our literary champions.
NW:
I think the length of time from completion to
publication is pretty much individual. The more distractions one deals with
affect the amount of time needed for revision and polishing and even finding an
agent. Same gender collaborators have not mattered to me in poetry. I was
fortunate to have studied with Sam Allen at BU, with Gwen Brooks, and Cornelius
Eady. All were extremely helpful to me. On the other hand, writing fiction has
been different. There are nuances men seem not to understand. One example in my
novel where some editor misunderstood a male character to be the central
character. Mariana Romo-Carmona advised me to just kill the dude off, the
character, not the editor. It was a perfect solution. There have been other
issues that women seemed to resonate with that escape men. One problem I
believe is that few men read women writers, whereas women tend to read both men
and women authors. Working with male writers from totally different cultures has
been interesting. All but Euro/American encounters have been enriching. There
is an exchange of ideas, but with the latter I have run up against such
startling arrogance it is disgusting. Anything that does not fit into their
paradigm they either dismiss or try to correct. There is a section in my novel
where I have the central character, a young-coming-to-adulthood black student
stopping by a Nubian Notion in Roxbury to get her first Afro. The barber likes
her, thinks she is beautiful and is excited to clip off her pressed hair and
style her Afro. He doesn’t charge her for his services, instead telling her she
will be his walking ad. Aside from not understanding the significance of the
Afro in 1968, one white man told me the scene was unbelievable. When I asked
what he didn’t believe, he said that she wasn’t charged. In capitalist America,
I suppose I should have expected his answer. When Hi Jen was at Emory, I was
able to see how working with someone from a totally different culture enhances.
Interestingly, he introduced me to the works of Amy Tan. I love her works and
have read all her books. I don’t want to end by generalizing about all same
gender collaborations. I am sure they don’t all work out and neither do all
male collaborators miss important elements, even white ones. It’s just that I,
as yet, have not had the pleasure of working with a white man who does not push
cultural and sexual hegemony.
LG:
I definitely resonate with much of what Nagueyalti
wrote. I cannot underestimate the empowerment of being with other BIPOC folks
who struggle to be valued in a white, male canon. My writing group of many
years was women of color and so have been my writing accountability partners. I
am overly exposed to and influenced by white writers without even reading them,
so I practice affirmative action in all my writing endeavors. I have sought out
teachers, editors, and consultants of color not only for their cultural
expertise, but also to do my part to dismantle the economic and cultural grip
of the white, predominantly male writing industry. That is very empowering to
me and others. I would agree with Nagueyalti that completion to publication is
very individual. My memoir was thirteen years in the making and my most
recently published book about the same. I was heartened to hear of other
writers taking ten years or so, and of Jane Austen writing multiple books at
the same time! Life circumstances are key, but more key is economic privilege
and access to decision-makers. Poorly written books by people with power are
published all the time. I remember a white publisher saying my memoir would
only be of interest to my family as it contained genealogical information. It
was not the “single story” trope of Latinx families and culture. THAT Latinx
trope book whose name I will not repeat was sold for a huge advance and
published early last year to first positive and then very negative acclaim! I
have had fruitful experiences with male writing teachers of color. I have not
thrived in all white workshops so am proactive to seek out either teachers of
color and/or colleagues so I am not the only one. I specifically submitted to aaduna
quite a while ago now because I saw that diverse voices clearly mattered and
have been a contributing editor to specifically work with people of color,
which brought me back in touch with Nagueyalti!
bb:
I am reminded of Tulsa’s Black Wall Street area during the pre-massacre of Black men, women, and children. We now know the story of a white lawless and armed mobs that burnt down, bombed, and devastated a community that commercially and professionally prospered far beyond the economic potential of white residents. Of course, local law enforcement did not intervene but that is another story.
As a youngster, visiting family in Tampa, Florida I experienced the Black only water fountains and segregated (i.e., sit in the back pews) Catholic Church Sunday service, but also the richness and vitality of the Black community. Is it the time for BIPOC to galvanize our own avenues to promote our creativity? To consciously self-segregate? There are a variety of independent “of color” bookstores and publishers that can prosper and grow if creative folks were to re-position their thinking of “achievement” and there are the theater, dance, and music venues. Or is this approach anti-inclusionary?
I continue to marvel at our homegrown creative idioms (think rap, break dancing, graffiti, fashion, language etc.) that other cultures appropriate all too often without the economic reimbursements. So, what do we do? And how does a medium like aaduna, that is multi-cultural, global and “ally” conscious in its scope, further the aspirations of members of the BIPOC communities worldwide?
“Hamilton” rocked the world of theatre driven by the
inherent extraordinary thinking and mindset of its creative geniuses, and
“Hadestown” explored a specific regional sensibility grounded in African
American generational culture. What should grassroots organizations aspire to
do? And how may these possible developments take root in your present or future
writings?
NW:
Well, I sure do not know the cure for racism,
prejudice, or all the isms that result in hatred and oppression. I think as a
writer I am responsible for exposing injustices. I have been intentional in
seeking out grassroots and BIPOC organizations and publishers. Like Linda, I
submitted to aaduna because of the ethnic voices it presents. aaduna has been
helpful by providing an outlet for a variety of voices. I wish I could say the
same for others. I published an anthology with a black publisher in 2008. To
date I have not received any royalties, nor have I been given an account of the
number books sold. In lieu of payment for their poems we also promised
contributors copies of the published book. It took a year to get the publisher
to actually live up to the agreement and send the books to contributors.
Another black book publisher is just notorious for delaying publication. After
having a manuscript accepted for publication, it may take three or four years
before it is published, if ever. Still, I know at least one, Lotus Press, now Lotus-Broadside
Press, that has done a wonderful job in promoting BIPOC writers. There is just
so much work to be done. How we treat each other, how we critique each other
and the commitments that we make to each other all need to be honored.
Sometimes self-hatred disempowers us in ways that make us less helpful that we
could and should be. I guess what I am saying is that it’s complicated. We must
insist on inclusion while at the same time we must support and surround
ourselves with people and institutions that support us, understand, and
appreciate what we do. We must insist on gaining NEH grants because it is
funded by money from our taxes. We deserve and must insist upon all the perks
that other writers enjoy, even when it’s easier to just say “to hell with it.”
We must keep pushing and when we do, who knows who will pop up, like Linda
doing a hard read of my story and offering excellent suggestions.
LG:
You have raised large questions that have no “right” answer. For myself, I have always self-consciously self-segregated as a powerful means to affirm and elevate my voice and that of other BIPOC writers and people. I do not want to spend my precious time having to explain my voice and the importance of what Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie calls the “danger of a single story” – one way to see people who do not dominate the publishing industry. We did not create nor can we dismantle the white, privileged system alone. We can only fight for our inclusion and hold sacred space for our safety and creativity. As Nagueyalti said, BIPOC groups can fail us as well since they always have less access to resources, resulting in promises are made that are not completed.
Nagueyalti and I first connected as the result of the institutional failure to make a program relevant and support to BIPOC students – you could say we self-segregated or you could say we created the system necessary to get the most out of the program geared toward white students as the status quo.
We each do this liberation work in different ways and
together we chip away at the glass ceilings inside our heads and in every
industry, even those dedicated to social justice. One of my writing teachers
said that as BIPOC we don’t need to worry about having our writing be
political. It is by its content and our voice rooted in making the “other”
visible, deeply human, and complex. This frees me to write what is mine to
write from my unique perspective. It is what will make the writing universal
and inspires others to abandon clichés and find that way to their own creative
expression. aaduna’s and your efforts bill created the opportunity for
Nagueyalti and I to re-connect and I am grateful.
bb:
Both of you have given me pause to reflect and dig deeper as to what our individual and collective roles are to not only empower the so-called “canon” but where our work needs to reside to embolden a readership that is all too often neglected by the “mainstream.” It is a challenge to consciously support creative voices and writers of color and find a comfortable equitable platform where there is integrity, fairness, and a collaborative spirit. I always drift back to the spirit of the Harlem Renaissance and the Black Power movement and those writers, essayists and poets and other creatives who charted a path for enhanced self-dignity and a feeling of worth.
I have let too much valuable time go adrift with my response but before I start to bring closure to our joint conversation, I have two simple yet possibly complex questions.
January 6, 2021 will always be marked in the consciousness of Americans, the national character and the reckoning of racial preference and different treatment under a law enforcement system that continues to favor non-BIPOC people. As creatives, especially writers, have the recent events in Washington, DC framed a creative idea that you will pursue or have started?
I have been watching the “Jazz” series on PBS (the
last episode I saw was centered on Armstrong and Ellington, the Great Migration,
and its impact on jazz by Black musicians/composers and eventually white musicians.)
And in light of the DC insurrection, I wonder where our creative folks will (or
should) take this recent divisive moment, and it is an opportunity to reframe,
at least artistically, the intellectual, creative, and political mindset of
Americans?
NW:
January 6 was not a surprise but a conformation of
what is well known in communities of color. There are two justice systems in
the United States, one for whites and the other for non-whites. The KKK, the
original home-grown terrorist group in the United States, existed unabated well
into the 20th century. The Proud Boys is a 21st century clone. Their terrorist
behavior does not excite my imagination. I probably will not write about it. It
disgusts me. For me there is nothing to reframe because glaring injustice has
been part of the non-white experience since 1492. The mindset of Americans will
not be changed until more white people look at each other and say, “We have to
own this behavior because this is who we are and who we have been from the
beginning of this nation.” BIPOC poets, writers, and artist have been telling
the same story for centuries and whites have been in denial. They must own it
and fix it. Will the terrorist be held to account? Will Trump? If they are not,
then we are far from becoming a democratic example for anyone to emulate.
Personally, I believe all persons involved in the insurrection should be tried
and WHEN found guilty should be deported and imprisoned at Guantanamo Bay.
LG:
I resonate with Nagueyalti’s response to your
question. Not much to re-frame. I will not remember January 6th in any more
significant way than the thousands of other demonstrations of inequitable
justice, health, housing, and work systems, to name the big ones. My work
always includes these realities and will continue to do so to expand the
white-dominated narratives and give BIPOC sustenance and models for how to not
write to the white gaze. Danielle Evans, an African American author,
acknowledges the challenge in this stance, stating that BIPOC writing with “greater
proximity to whiteness—tend to be more likely to get mainstream success,
because they are presenting a version of the world that is recognizable to
people making most of the decisions.” The writing system is inequitable as
well. Nevertheless, we persevere!
bb:
In March, as PBS explored the intricacies and
societal/racial issues confronting African Americans from violent
discrimination and white fueled riots against Blacks to the significance of the
Black Church as pivotal pillars to its ongoing “Jazz” series, I am reminded
that there are creative contemporaries, literary giants who maintain the light
that guides our aspirations and grassroots movements. You two are warriors in
this ongoing battle for equity and constructing a paradigm that is essentially
ours, with our intellectual and creative philosophies that embolden our
progressive, grassroots actions. Thank
you for taking the time to chat with me. I am humbled by your wisdom, grace,
and creativity. Through your strength, the public is invigorated with the
righteous truth that you bring to many.
<><><>
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Nagueyalti Warren, Ph.D., Professor of Pedagogy Emerita in African American Studies at Emory University, is author of four collections of poetry, Lodestar and Other Night Lights; Margaret: circa 1834-1858, the winner of the Naomi Long Madgett Poetry Award, Braided Memory, which won the Violet Reed Haas Poetry Award and Lodestar: New and Collected Poems. A children’s book, Good Gracious Granny is forthcoming. Professor Warren is editor of Temba Tupu! (Walking Naked) The Africana Women’s Poetic Self-Portrait. Her poems have appeared in Essence Magazine, Cave Canem Anthology, The Ringing Ear, Obsession, 44 on 44 and elsewhere. A Cave Canem graduate fellow, Dr. Warren also is author of W.E.B. Du Bois: Grandfather of Black Studies, Alice Walker’s Metaphysics: Literature of Spirit, and editor of Critical Insights: Alice Walker. She received her undergraduate degree from Fisk University, a Master of Arts in Afro-American Studies from Boston University, a master’s degree in English from Simmons College, a PhD from the University of Mississippi and an MFA from Goddard College. Warren resides outside of Atlanta with her husband. They have three adult children.
bill berry, jr. is the
publisher of aaduna and the CEO of aaduna, Inc., Auburn, NY. In Auburn,
he serves as chair of the Harriet Tubman Center for Justice and Peace, Inc. and
has had his social essays and commentaries published by The Citizen
newspaper. Every so often, bill reads his work at public venues most notably
The Cayuga Museum of History and Art and The Seward House Museum, both
institutions located in Auburn. In 2020, he inaugurated a print publication
with the limited, signed, and dated chapbook, The Death of Compassion authored
by Rochester poet, writer, and visual artist Karen Faris.
aaduna - an online adventure with words and images - a globally read, multi-cultural, and diverse online literary and visual arts journal established in 2010.
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