By Emil Guillermo

The Temptations, the harmonizing, singing dancing man-group of your OG youth, were on “The Today Show,” earlier this week.

There were some new members, no David Ruffin. But Otis Williams, 83, was there still crooning and preening, leading the group’s 60th anniversary performance of “My Girl.”

When I first heard “My Girl,” I got it.

I was 9 and had a crush on Julie Satterfield, with the braided ponytails in my catechism class. Unfortunately, she did not become my girl.

But that song was always a special bridge in my life. In college, I was a member of a practically all-White, all-male club that mirrored the demographics at that university. At the parties, the song of choice was “My Girl.”

Which is odd, because the party was 98% men.

The organization is a little better now, with women, people of color and LGBTQ+, but back in the 70s, the Tempts music was the only thing that integrated that club.

POETRY’S “MY GIRL”

The song’s anniversary took me by surprise. But not as much as the death of Nikki Giovanni.

Giovanni was probably one of the most famous young African American women in the 1960s, known for her fiery poetry. But even that description is tame.

The New York Times obit headline practically buried her historical impact: “Nikki Giovanni, Poet Who Wrote of Black Joy, Dies at 81.”

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That doesn’t begin to touch the fire of Giovanni’s work through her lifetime.

I’ll always see her as the Black female voice that broke through the silence of good enough.  In 1968, when cities were burning all across America, Giovanni was the militant female voice of a revolution.

Her “The True Import of Present Dialogue: Black vs. Negro,” is the historical record of racial anger as literature from the opening lines.

It reads profane and violent, shockingly so then. These days, it may seem tamer than rap music.

But it’s jarring and pulls no punches. It protests Vietnam, and what Black men were asked to do for their country.

“We kill in Viet Nam,” she wrote. “We kill for UN & NATO & SEATO & US.”

Written in 1968, it was a poem that spoke to the militancy and activism of the times. And she explained herself in a follow up, “My Poem.”

“I am 25 years old, Black female poet,” she wrote referring to her earlier controversial poem. “If they kill me. It won’t stop the revolution.”

Giovanni wrote more poetry and children’s books. She taught at Rutgers, then later Virginia Tech where she followed her fellow professor who would become her spouse, Virginia C. Fowler.

Since Giovanni’s death, I’ve read through her poetry, from what made her famous, to her later poems that revealed her humanity and compassion for all of life.

In “Allowables,” she writes of finding a spider on a book, then killing it.

And she scared me
And I smashed her
I don’t think
I’m allowed
To kill something
Because I am
Frightened

For Giovanni, her soul was in her poetry, and the revolution was her evolution.

About the Author

Emil Guillermo is a journalist, commentator, and solo performer. Join him at www.patreon.com/emilamok 

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By Min. Rauna Thurston, Chief Mpuntuhene Afua Ewusiwa I

My travels to Afrika began in June 2022, on a tour led by Prof. Manu Ampim, Director of the organization Advancing The Research. I was scheduled to become an ordained Minister by Wo’se Community of the Sacred African Way. It was vital that my feet touch the soil of Kemet and my spirit connect with the continent’s people before ordination.

Since 2022, I’ve made six trips to Afrika. During my travels, I became a benefactor to Abeadze State College (ASC) in Abeadze Dominase, Ghana, originally founded by Daasebre Kwebu Ewusi VII, Paramount Chief of Abeadze Traditional Area and now run by the government. The students there were having trouble with English courses, which are mandatory. The Ghanaian Minister of Education endorsed a novel written by 18-year-old female Ghanaian first-time writer, Nhyira Esaaba Essel, titled Black Queen Sceptre. The idea was that if the students had something more interesting to read, it would evoke a passion for reading; this seemed reasonable to me. Offer students something exciting and imaginative, combined with instructors committed to their success and this could work.

The challenge is how to acquire 800 books?!

I was finishing another project for ASC, so my cash was thin and I was devoid of time to apply for annual grants. I sat on my porch in West Oakland, as I often do, when I’m feeling for and connecting to my ancestors. On quiet nights, I reminisce about the neighborhood I grew up in. Across the street from my house was the house that my Godfather, Baba Dr. Wade Nobles and family lived in, which later became The Institute for the Advanced Study of Black Family Life & Culture (IASBFLC). Then, it came to me…ancestors invited me to reach out to The Association of Black Psychologists – Bay Area Chapter (ABPsi-Bay Area)! It was a long shot but worth it!

I was granted an audience with the local ABPsi Board, who ultimately approved funding for the book project with a stipulation that the Board read the book and a request to subsequently offer input as to how the book would be implemented at ASC. In this moment, my memory jet set to my first ABPsi convention around 2002, while working for IASBFLC. Returning to the present, I thought, “They like to think because it feels good, and then, they talk about what to do about what they think about.” I’m doomed.

However, I came to understand why reading the book and offering suggestions for implementation were essential. In short: ABPsi is an organization that operates from the aspirational principles of Ma’at with aims of liberating the Afrikan Mind, empowering the Afrikan character, and enlivening: illuminating the Afrikan spirit. Their request resulted in a rollout of 400 books in a pair-share system. Students checked out books in pairs, thereby reducing our bottom line to half of the original cost because we purchased 50% fewer units. This nuance promoted an environment of Ujima (collective work & responsibility) and traditional Afrikan principles of cooperation and interdependence. The student’s collaborative approach encouraged shared responsibility, not only for the physical book but for each other’s success. This concept was Dr. Lawford Goddard’s, approved by the Board, with Dr. Patricia “Karabo” Nunley at the helm.

We effectively facilitated cross-continent community building! We met the call and provided 400 books for ASC’s students at the call of the Minister of Education. We supported the work of a new African writer whose breakout novel is an action-packed depiction of a young woman steeped in Ghanaian culture who travels to the USA for college, all the while experiencing the twists, turns, and uncertainties that life brings. (A collectible novel for all ages). A proposed future phase of this collaborative project is for ASC students to exchange reflective essays on Black Queen Sceptre with ABPsi Bay Area members.

We got into good trouble. To order Black Queen Sceptre, email esselewurama14@gmail.com.

I became an ordained Minister upon returning from my initial pilgrimage to Afrika. Who would have imagined that my travels to Afrika would culminate in me becoming a citizen of Sierra Leone and recently being named a Chief Mpuntuhene under Daasebre Kwebu Ewusi VII, Paramount Chief of Abeadze Traditional Area in Ghana, where I envision continued collaborations.

Min. Rauna/Chief Mpuntuhene is a member of ABPsi Bay Area, a healing resource committed to providing the Post Newspaper readership with monthly discussions about critical issues in Black Mental Health, Wealth & Wellness. Readers are welcome to join us at our monthly chapter meetings every 3^rd Saturday via Zoom and contact us at bayareaabpsi@gmail.com.

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By Terri Schlichenmeyer
The Bookworm Sez

An average oak tree is bigger around than two people together can reach.

That mighty tree starts out with an acorn the size of a nickel, ultimately growing to some 80 feet tall, with a canopy of a hundred feet or more across.

And like the new book, “Affrilachia” by Chris Aluka Berry (with Kelly Elaine Navies and Maia A. Surdam), its roots spread wide and wider.

Affriclachia is a term a Kentucky poet coined in the 1990s referring to the Black communities in Appalachia who are similarly referred to as Affrilachians.

In 2016, “on a foggy Sunday morning in March,” Berry visited Affrilachia for the first time by going the Mount Zion AME Zion Church in Cullowhee, North Carolina. The congregation was tiny; just a handful of people were there that day, but a pair of siblings stood out to him.

According to Berry, Ann Rogers and Mae Louise Allen lived on opposite sides of town, and neither had a driver’s license. He surmised that church was the only time the elderly sisters were together then, but their devotion to one another was clear.

As the service ended, he asked Allen if he could visit her. Was she willing to talk about her life in the Appalachians, her parents, her town?

She was, and arrangements were made, but before Barry could get back to Cullowhee, he learned that Allen had died. Saddened, he wondered how many stories are lost each day in mountain communities where African Americans have lived for more than a century.

“I couldn’t make photographs of the past,” he says, “but I could document the people and places living now.”

In doing so he also offers photographs that he collected from people he met in ‘Affrilachia,’ in North Carolina, Georgia, Kentucky, and Tennessee, at a rustic “camp” that was likely created by enslaved people, at churches, and in modest houses along highways.

The people he interviewed recalled family tales and community stories of support, hardship, and home.

Says coauthor Navies, “These images shout without making a sound.”

If it’s true what they say about a picture being worth 1,000 words, then “Affrilachia,” as packed with photos as it is, is worth a million.

With that in mind, there’s not a lot of narrative inside this book, just a few poems, a small number of very brief interviews, a handful of memories passed down, and some background stories from author Berry and his co-authors. The tales are interesting but scant.

For most readers, though, that lack of narrative isn’t going to matter much. The photographs are the reason why you’d have this book.

Here are pictures of life as it was 50 years or a century ago: group photos, pictures taken of proud moments, worn pews, and happy children. Some of the modern pictures may make you wonder why they’re included, but they set a tone and tell a tale.

This is the kind of book you’ll take off the shelf, and notice something different every time you do. “Affrilachia” doesn’t contain a lot of words, but it’s a good choice when it’s time to branch out in your reading.

“Affrilachia: Testimonies,” by Chris Aluka Berry with Kelly Elaine Navies and Maia A. Surdam

c.2024, University of Kentucky Press, $50.00.

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