Still I rise
I am in the process of doing a large mural for a mural program in Newark.
It’s on the side of a day care center
In one of the most depressed areas of Newark
Its on the wall of a dare care center owned and run by the family
Of one of the greatest and longest Serving politicians in Newark (now deceased).
A great man who loved fought for and served his people,
A man that ought to be honored and remembered for his love of community.
Initially the wall I was going to get was in another neighborhood.
So I was going to make a Spanish language mural utilizing the talents and ethic background
Of my art partner and a student assistant.
I have found by teaching in Newark Schools how much the Latino population is
Underestimated and ignored
I wanted to right that wrong
But perhaps that isn’t my place
Or not my destiny
But this wasn’t to be.
I was informed that my new wall would be in a predominately African American neighborhood.
I was in despair.
I felt like Al Pacino in the god father when he said “just when I get out, they pull me back in”.
I turned inward thinking of visions of Africa
And kunte kinte and kinte cloth and Kwanzaa……..not again
Lions and tigers and Bears
Oh my……………..
I rocked
I run
I ran
I ran right back into myself into my history
My upbringing
I tell everyone half jokingly
That I was raised in one of the first afro centric homes in America
I ran right back into my father
Who is always lurking some where near.
In my vision my father his eyes on me
Looking over his glasses
In the father of the world stare………….
The stare that no child wants from a parent………
Anyway when he looked at me……..and I at him
I had memories of him sitting around our table,
With Jack greenspan, Henry Brown, Newt burqurt and Arthur Carrington.
Sitting there plotting demonstration’s
Fighting the system
Marching
Pride
And revolution
I could see him young again dressed in his dashikis……….
Afro picked out
Prideful and strong
In control……………..
Black and beautiful
Memories of cotton comes to Harlem
The liberation of Lb Jones
Sounder and Miss Jane Pittman
The learning tree
H.rap and stokley
Burn baby burn
I could see him taking and feel the pride I felt when
Ali was Ali
When their was five on the Black Hand side
I remembered there my father’s eyes
The pride I felt the joy
When I heard the phrase black power shouted out for the first time
The horror of Emmitt till
The beauty of Brenda sikes
The sexiness of Pam Grier
And sleekness of Shaft
I remember when
I remember the white only signs
I remember singing we shall over come as a child
Out of the back of station wagons
And then I realized that my trip was almost complete
I was not to far away from this street
Not too long ago
Riding in a car with friends
During a night of unrest
I was on this street at 15
On this street when it was a blaze
And the only thing that saved us was our afros
So now I return
Just when I get out they pull me back in
And they are right
I owe them I owe this street
And this man
I can do this mural
Ill do it for their father
For my father
But to be honest mostly for me
When I got my first museum show
My father told me
That I need to make some work for my people
I thought that’s what I was doing
He didn’t
And he was right in many ways
Now I can do some thing for the people
That live here
And in the process
Do some thing for myself
I am an old Negro
I can’t be hip any longer
I keep seeing the line
From the poem
Still I rise
Still I rise
And looking out
Over my father shoulder
Around his afro
I know that this journey is almost complete
And I know that my people
Need to hear this again
See this again
Every morning
Every night
Still I rise
Still I rise
The next mural I do
Will be one of my father
For my father
This one is for a man like my father
I can do this standing on my head
Or more accurately
Standing on my fathers shoulders
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