Poetry is empowerment: Place-making in Copenhagen
One of my best descriptions of poetry comes from ancestor Amiri Baraka who once talked about what made a poem good. It went something along the lines of if you read your poetry to a group of construction workers, and they liked it, then your poetry was good.
There is a tendency in this culture to make art a pursuit reserved for the privileged. A cordoning off of who is allowed to create and who is not. I suppose this is what makes poetry so dangerous. The power of the word can never be contained. The position of poet is universal — from the griots on the continent of Africa to the rich poetic tradition reaching from Iran and India to Somalia and China. In the beginning was the word, word!
I discovered the power of the spoken word while in college. Although I had been writing for many years I had never performed in front of an audience. I took a course in college that entered around composing my work in my head, and while there, learned to speak in front of others. I experienced how this influenced my confidence in the world, how it also was a way for me to release, through a creative channel, my words. While in New York I met poets such as Tony Medina and Suheir Hammad. I saw Amiri Baraka perform a few times. His son Ras Baraka. It was an integral part of my existence in New York. It was how I communed and fortified my soul.
When I moved to Denmark 18 years ago, one of the things I got really excited about was how much was missing here. Huh?! Yeah, because I figured that whatever I didn’t find here, I, along with others, could create. No matter how challenging life can sometimes be in Scandinavia, I have to say that I continue to be humbled by the support and reception I have experienced, and continue to experience throughout the years here.
About a year ago, I along with some other poets I had crossed paths and worked with decided to start a poetry collective. We used the name “Say It Loud”, because hey, it’s just what we intended to do. The idea was that we would be a fluid collective, meaning that membership was dynamic. The idea was to create a collective of poets that were all connected through a desire to create a space where we saw none.
Say it Loud is now known as Random Access Memory (R.A.M.) poetry collective. Our name will probably change again because the only thing that is constant is change. On Monday, December 5th something special happened at Nørrebro Library when 7 of us gathered to share our work with a more than receptive audience.
Starting the evening off was Julia — a mother of two and multi-talented artist. Beginning the evening with a libation of sorts, Julia wasted no time in breaking out into a flow of words that announced immediately the urgency of our words. From reminding us of our Queendom to speaking truths about colonization, Julia is proof positive of the resilience of the creative spirit.
Zanubia Omar, a former student of mine, followed. I can’t express the satisfaction I feel seeing Zanubia step into her role as poet. Her words, that conjure images of family who inhabit that no-mans land of “refugee” and her insistence on reminding us of each other’s humanity always gets my tears rolling down my face. But that was the kind of evening it was — an evening for us to express ourselves and support each other and experience the power of that.
Qwin followed with poetry that explored colorism, queerness and loss- her imagery so precise that her words flashed as pictures through my mind as she read. As she beat her hand against her chest, following her heartbeat, the fleetingness of this thing called life could be felt. Adelina’s words protested against what girls are and are not supposed to do and conjured Sunni Patterson, all the way up here in Copenhagen, ensuring that the power of our words are shared with, “We made it, We made it, We made it…”
Sabitha’s words about love, sickness and loss and the way they were read create a powerful force that underlies her gentle voice. How does someone reconcile the space of being adopted with the space of loss that may come with it? How does one navigate a society when one’s skin colour is marginalised? Sabitha’s voice is a necessary one in a society where there is a population of racialized children who have and continue to be adopted which is sometimes due to the privilege of the West and the manufactured poverty of many, mostly women, in the East.
Besides being an excellent hostess and holding space, Teju told tales of the infinite power of seeds, the dire space of choking that many of us throughout the African diaspora are currently feeling and connecting the dots of our presence throughout the world. Teju made us ask ourselves about that first moment we thought of ourselves as artists — a question that provides necessary perspective in our understanding our lives, our trajectories and purpose.
The audience was amazing and receptive. It was a powerful evening. The best part of the evening however, was the camaraderie and support that we gave each other and the way that I’ve been able to hold my head up a little higher ever since.
Poetry is for the people. Create what you’re missing. Now is the time.
R.A.M. Poetry Collective present Urban Bush Stories was part of the 24 Days of Culture Festival this December in Copenhagen.
Special thanks to all the poets & Nørrebro Library & 24 Days of Culture Festival
Lesley-Ann Brown is from Brooklyn but makes Copenhagen her home. She teaches and writes about Copenhagen, Trinidad, Brooklyn and sometimes Maui. You can find some of her work at www.lesleyannbrownwrites.wordpress.com. She’s enjoys learning Danish.
