| I came to Berkeley cuz' I wanted some action. My high school teacher tried to illustrate the difference between a small private college in Ohio and Berkeley. "In a small college you'll have drugs, sex, and partying at a small scale. At Berkeley you'll have drugs, sex, and partying at a big scale." It sounded fun and made sense, but that's not why I chose B-town. I was looking for something else; something that made me feel like I had a purpose. Movimiento. Movement. You know, the type of motion/commotion that keeps a hummingbird suspended midair. Movement. The same that allows a baseball and a glove on a child's hand to meet and then smile. Movimiento. The same that keeps you from getting run over when crossing telegraph on green. And more importantly, Movement of people trying to change the socio-political conditions that keep women and people of color down. And more specifically, an artistic movement that would tie socio change and beauty together. So in my quest for artistic political Movement I met this girl; this beautiful girl that had a smile that let you know that she was really enjoying herself. And this giggle that reaffirm her smile and her feeling what you were saying. This beautiful girl, who happened to be a poet, and who happened to be the most published African American author, and who happened to be some decades of experience and struggle older than me, was June Jordan. Up to this point, I did not had much interest in the struggles of other people of color but my own. I was naive because I thought that Xican@ issues were only Xican@ issues, and not all part of a complex system of oppression that pitted ethnicity against ethnicity to keep us down and controlled. But this beautiful small black girl genuinely cared about oppression in general, and also cared about dignity for all people. This beautiful small black girl had more word power than encyclopedia Britannica. And I knew that she spoke truth and I have never seemed anybody more determined then her to get her message across, in a beautiful short-but-sweet way. And I know that June was not a girl, in the young body sense of the world. But she was in her joy of living and eagerness to laugh and have fun. And I don't want to seem that I know a lot about June, because I do not. I only know what I saw in our small class and from small talks with her, and from what I have heard others talk about. I only know about the way she touched my life in a most profound way that no other person (who is not my immediate family) has done. June Jordan was a girl because she seemed so happy sometimes, the only way I see little girls be. And as strong and intimidating as she could be, if she wanted to, she could be a friendly face in a playground full of bullies(UCB). If UCB was a playground and I the child I was, I know she would of stop the big kids from pushing me to the ground and making fun of me. If UCB was a playground and I a child, June would of been the girl who would stand in the way of the bully and my face, and maybe even go as far as telling me "what's up with you, how come you don't stand up for yourself," and she would clearly show me how you punch the bully in the stomach if after reciting a poem about friendship and respect don't work. And then we would go to the bench by the swing and share her spicy cinnamon candy and then we would exchange Jamaican food for tacos. But I met this great girl when she was a strong "slim lady" with an attitude. I was in the process of becoming a man, and learning my responsibility to the life and sacredness of others and of myself. I learned from June how to speak truth through "minimum words maximum impact" poems. How to tell it how it is and get people to listen and get what I'm saying and get it now not latter when the abuser already had his time to wash his hands. Urgency is the name of the game. And after been all serious something would be funny and she would giggle and things would be cool for a while and we would know that she thought we were okay in her book, and we just loved her for that. We, the poetry for the people group, would be together and eager to do something. But now June's body is dead, and I never got to do what I should of have done, be around her more. And I feel bad that I was not around her much while she was sick. And although I know that she did not need me and was never alone, that's beside the point. I should've taken my daughter Quetzalli to meet this great person, and I'm sure June would of loved to see such chunky rosy baby. I should've taken flowers and music or something. I feel she gave me so much and I gave too little in return. I have a dept I must pay. June helped me find my voice, I need to help other youth find theirs. She was an example of what it is to love life and live it fully, even when sick. Even when sick she wrote and kept the program running. The least I can do, is to pay her with my service to others and with trying to end oppression in all forms. Like June said in her book, "Some of us did not die." And although this may seem like ironic words, they are not. She well knew that she was sick and that her life story was not going to last very long. She wrote that for us. To call on our responsibility as survivor to oppression, as privilege educated people of color who owe a dept to those who died in their struggle so that we could have an education, so that we could live better than our parents did. "Some of us did not die," is a message that should be written on marvel, school walls, fresh cement. Because it does not pertain to only one person, but to the ones that endure and are living, who ever they happen to be at the time. Like someone once said, "You can kill the revolutionary, but you cannot kill the revolution." The struggle for land and dignity continues world wide, and they could never ever kill the spirit of resistance. I don't know exactly what we should do to make this a better world. That's up to each of us to figure out. I guess that one thing we should do is to enjoy and be grateful for the sacredness of our lives. Even when the sun don't shine on us, remember King's words, "only when is dark enough can you see the stars," or June's cool quote "I was looking at the ceiling and then I saw the sky." In our process of making ourselves better people, we should find out how strong we are. I think that if we would just realize how much we can endure, we could risk ourselves more and be more acceptant of personal sacrifice. Just try not eating your tacos for a day, just to try out your determination/will. If so many oppressed people of the world manage to do so much (surviving everyday is a big accomplishment for some people of the world) just imagine what we could do with all the resources and food we have. So what's keeping us from taking matters into our own hands/heart? Let's mold our own reality, and yes, take it personal, take it to the heart. To hell with distancing yourself from issues and the people you want to help. Like gardeners, you need to get your hands on the earth and some dirt under your fingernails to make the greens grow. peace. 8/30/2002 |