Last Stand/Call to Action/Deathbed Broadside - Day 3

Brother Authors,

As week 1 of the institute comes to an end, we will write for the benefit of others and ourselves. To do this, I ask you to reflect on an experience that you can use to teach the rest of us a lesson. I offer a broadside below that captures the first time I was placed at gunpoint at age 11 (4015 days after I was born) in the Ida B. Wells housing projects. This experience and others, mostly positive, shaped my decision to become a teacher. We are the change agents we need. Things will not change until... The broadside is below:


Until…
By
Alfred W. Tatum
July 1, 2009
10:18 pm


Four thousand and fifteen days from my first breath

Cornered by the brown brick fearing death

Invisible in broad daylight

The wide-opened eyes closed shut by dull beginnings

Could not see me/himself

Because of what he was (mis)taught

Confused

Distraught

Blood continues to drip

On the inner-city asphalt

Until…

Until…

Until…

Facts and Names Broadsides - Day 2

Brother Authors,

The broadsides we write today will be informed by facts. I struggled over the past two days to write the following broadside for the young Haitian Brothers. The broadside was sparked by a comment made by Wyclef Jean during the BET awards. He mentioned, "There is no excuse, I was born in a hut." I decided to write to the HUT BOY.

Hut Boy
by
Alfred W. Tatum

Without common birth
I sit in my hut of hope
Unphased by my scorched feet
My mind remains in tact
*Tout moun se moun
Speaks our Haitian-born leader
As he takes up the cross for liberation
My dark soul rebels
Reminding me that
I am a good person
Phillippe, they will say one day
You are the leader of this nation’s revolution
Toussaint, would be proud
Hail to you, our son of La Saline (slum).

*Haitian proverb that means every human being is a human being

Post today's broadsides under the heading - Facts and Names Broadsides

YBA Poetic Broadsides Week 1

Brother Authors,

It's time to write. Your posts for day 1 should be placed under this heading.

I begin with the longer poem below titled, Measuring UP

Measuring Up
by
Alfred W. Tatum



How many strands of hair do I have on my bald head?
How many thoughts are there in my empty thinking?
What do you make of the word love I have tattooed on my right arm that shot a glock
What ACT score do I need to get my mind off the block where I once S.A.T as a child

Everybody wants to find the right instrument to measure me
To see if I am becoming what others want me to be
How about this?

I changed my lil bro’s dirty diaper
Combed my sister’s nappy head
Tucked my mother in her seventeen-year-old bed with no headboard
And I borrowed a roll of toilet paper
Before heading off to ninth grade to score a perfect 100 on my algebra test
What’s my score on the algebra test?

Then, I went to English and scored 97% on my quiz
Right after I borrowed a shirt from my boy so I wouldn’t look dirty in front of Monifa
Who sat in the chair behind me
Don’t ask me about the quiz and some stuff I can’t even remember
Because my mind is clouded hoping she didn’t see the hole in the back of my shoes
What’s my score on the English quiz?

Then I had to change in P.E.
With the same dingy drawers
That I am ashamed to have anyone see over the back of my pants
No drooping jeans for me
I keep going because I want perfect attendance
What’s my score for P.E.?

All the time I am thinking how I can change things
For my lil bro and nappy headed sister
Hoping my mother lives long enough to see their successes
And so my dad will be proud of them when he sees them again

I am trying to be the glue and hold it together
But I am so conflicted, restricted
Trying to measure up to people who do not know how to measure me
With their strange instruments

Off to history class to turn in my paper about democratic ideals in a global society
That I worked on all night just to get it right
After listening to more bad news on the news about me
I hope mr. Johnson uses the right rubric on the paper to get it right
My perfect and near perfect scores are adding up
But so are the sores
Where is the instrument that captures both?

Maybe being measured is not a good idea
I think I am going to focus on measuring up
But I am sure someone would like to know how to measure measuring up
I’ll let them figure that out
While I go home to feed my lil bro and nappy headed sister.

AAAMSLI Preamble

Preamble

We, the Brother Authors, will seek to use language to define who we are , become and nurture resilient beings, write for the benefit of others and ourselves, and use language prudently and unapologetically to mark our time and mark our lives. This, we agree to, with a steadfast commitment to the ideals of justice, compassion and a better humanity for all.

To this end, we write!