book talk: the water dancer

My favorite piece by Ta Nehisi-Coates, Between the World and Me, was raw and intimate. Coates describes the world, which his son is now inheriting, with such detail and proximity that all readers, white readers too, could feel the weight on Coates’ shoulder to survive as a black man and protect and raise a young black son. It was non-fiction as hell. So when I saw Coates’ The Water Dancer in the fiction section of Barnes & Noble, I had to see how his words fit into this genre.

The Water Dancer is from the first-person perspective of Hiram (“Hi”), an enslaved boy in Virginia. The entire novel is Hiram telling his story from a retrospective narrative, giving the reader a fascinating insight. Hi remembers everything. He has what we call today an eidetic memory. This is an important detail in the novel.

Hiram lives on a plantation called “Lockless” (I think Coates did something with the name there). The master of Lockless, Howell, is also Hi’s father. His mother, Rose, an enslaved woman, was the best dancer at Lockless, but Hi can't seem to remember her. We don’t really know what happened to her but we know it was violent and traumatic and Hi was without a mother from a young age.

Hi seems to obtain the power of “conduction” which means by remembering, he can move through water (like Moses). For pretty much the whole novel, Hi narrates the path of familiarizing himself with the power of conduction, and in the end, how he used it for good.

The first thing I noticed, and my favorite aspect of the novel, is that Hiram was surrounded by strong and supportive black women who weren’t his mother. He even mentions to the reader, that he wouldn’t be where he is without the women in his life. Even more moving, Hiram wasn’t lusting after all of them. Too often, authors of historical fiction novels insert women into the novel to simply be the source of the main character’s lust. Coates carefully and intentionally created female characters who enriched and guided the main character’s path; it is clear to the reader that the main character would not have made it without their insight. The last thing I’ll say about this aspect of the novel is that while Hiram does fall in love with a woman, Sophia, his lust for her isn’t from her appearance. Hiram tells the reader he falls in love with Sophia because of her mind, her outlook on life, her tenacity (which he didn’t have a lot of), and other non-physical characteristics. That’s a character trait you don’t see very often. My favorite line in the whole book comes from Sophia– she says to Hiram, “but what you must get is that for me to be yours, I must never be yours.” Brilliant. 

A theme that I was particularly interested in was morality. Pause, I know that sounds like a very frequent theme–especially in a book about slavery. But this theme of morality is really different from what’s in most books. Hiram says that those who are enslaved are “blessed, for we do not bear the weight of pretending pure.” Hiram doesn’t just believe whites are immoral for owning slaves, but also because they put the face makeup on, the fancy dresses, the best suits, and exotic dishes–they paint a fictitious picture of purity which those who don’t have the privilege of painting, can see right through. Read that again.

I think this novel stands alone in historical fiction. I don’t think there are very many authors who can weave the most human emotions and experiences into characters whose humanity is taken like Coates can. Not to mention, the creativity to give an enslaved man a special power when he has no power as an enslaved man. Read that one again too.

Quotes that I read twice:

“The sharp smell of her was still in our room, on our bed, and I tried to follow that scent down the alleys of my mind, but while all the twists and turns that marked my short life were before me, my mother appeared only as fog and smoke.” Page 13.

“I now rise when I want and I sleep well when it is my will. My name is Parks because I said so. I  pulled the name from nothing–conjured it as a gift to my son. It got no meaning except this–I chose it. Its meaning is in the doing.” Page 59.

“And I think of all that beauty sometimes, how it withered in them chains…” Page 60.

“The light of freedom had been reduced to embers, but it was still shining in me, and borne up by the winds of fear, I kept running, bent, loping, locked, but running all the same, with my whole chest aflame.” Page 144.

“There is this moment in the stormy lives of a few blessed colored people, a moment of revelation, when the sky opens up, the clouds part, and a streak of sun cuts through, conveying some infinite wisdom from above, and this moment comes not from Christian religion, but from the sight of a colored man addressing a white one as Raymond White now did…” Page 200

“It occurred to me that an examination of the Task revealed not just those evils particular to Virginia, to my old world, but the great need for a new one entirely. Slavery was the root of all struggle. For it was said that the factories enslaved the hands of children, and that the child-bearing enslaved the bodies of women, and that rum enslvaed the souls of men.” Pages 251-252.

poetry is not my thing

“The white fathers told us: I think, therefore I am. The Black mother within each of us–the poet–whispers in our dreams: I feel, therefore I can be free. Poetry coins the language to express and charter this revolutionary demand, the implementation of that freedom.” (Poetry is Not a Luxury)

It seems at some of my darkest, loneliest, most confusing times, I turn to poetry. I have come to this realization, recently, by rediscovering and opening up journals and going through the attic of my notes app. 

Poetry has never been my thing, but I have been able to put words together and give voice to my emotions due to poetry’s tolerance and boundless range. Poetry is forgiving. Poetry has no requirements.

“Poetry is Not a Luxury” is one of my favorite works by Audre Lorde. The piece is a call to action for women to write poetry, as we have done for centuries, and use it as power. While stumbling across some of my poems, it has dawned on me that I now have the ability to share and give light to my internal thoughts. I now have the platform to fulfill Audre Lorde’s call, and use my poems as power, even if it’s not my strong suit. 

So, I put before you, four poems, dated, untitled, and written with no restraints–giving my words and emotions validation–as my idol told me to.

“amazing grace

how sour her name

shes loud and bold and voices her needs

one who doesn't save a wretch nor king

she’s been lost,

but who hasn’t

she found herself in the early morning

to keep

they kept her blind

but now

she sees”

1/5/22

“Fly me to the moon

Where I can rest my eyes

In the ultimate darkness

I’ll get the best sleep of my life

Because on the moon,

You cant get sensory overload.”

1/2/22

“I am who I am.

Pieces and fragments of who i once was remain

Broken and shattered, of course,

But I am breaking out of my previous mold.

I think the most crucial question is,

Should I keep the pieces for safekeeping?”

12/21/21

“I'm calling myself a genius because I think geniuses think like me, a genius.

I've seen the world take its first steps

I've seen the world take its last breath

I know what you are going to say before you say it and I know what you said before you said it

I've heard humanity’s secrets

The coverups too

I know that somewhere isn't really somewhere but everywhere if we can just get there

I'm a genius because I cracked the fucking code

The one thing they don't tell you about being a genius

However

Is, you lose the fun of being fought,

The sadness of seclusion

The excitement of entering

The pleasure of people

I guess that's why we’re so hard to come by”

4/19/22

“But women have survived. As poets. And there are no new pains. We have felt them all already. We have hidden that fact in the same place where we have hidden our power. They surface in our dreams, and it is our dreams that give us the strength and courage to see, to feel, to speak, and to dare.” (Poetry is Not a Luxury)

book talk: tender is the flesh

After the “animal virus” deems all animals inedible, humans take it upon themselves to erase them. In replacement, humans are bred and slaughtered for meat, just as they once did a cow or a pig. The government legalizes cannibalism, and slaughterhouses refine their practices to produce the highest quality of what is now referred to as, “special meat.” I won't get into all the disturbing practices, but what struck me the most is the “special meat” have their vocal cords removed so they can't scream or communicate with each other. 

The main character, Marcos, is a thinker. He reads people by the words they choose to say. Marcos is still hurting from the sudden death of his child and it doesn't help that his wife leaving him, and his father’s health is dwindling. 

Marcos works at the processing plant, where the “head” is prepared for consumption. He is the owner’s right-hand man. Marcos hates everything about his line of work, but it allows him to live comfortably, and it keeps his father in the most expensive nursing home where he can receive the best care. 

While this book makes me a bit queasy and I definitely lose my appetite after reading it, I still eagerly flip to the next page.

The dystopian society Bazterrica writes of doesn't seem too far-fetched. We haven't even fully handled COVID and now we have monkeypox. Who’s to say we won't start eating each other within the next couple of years?

I think that makes me the most uneasy. The world I am living in today is in close proximity to the fictional world Bazterrica creates.

On the theme of words: Bazterrica makes it clear that words are a central theme by spending the first page explaining Marcos and his relationship with words. She ends the page by writing, “his brain warns him that there are words that cover up the world.” Throughout the novel, Bazterrica narrates Marcos’ internal battle with what things really are, and what we call them (or what we are forced to call them). This got me thinking about our names, labels, and categories. As a society, we are slowly questioning the impact words have. The efforts of vocal individuals has pushed to turn “illegal immigrant” into “undocumented,” “victim” to “survivor,” “The Washington Redskins” to “The Washington Football Team,” “Beaners” to “Wussow’s Concert Cafe.” Tender is the Flesh shows what happens when we stop questioning words. Horror. Terror. The ugliest world.

Bazterrica is also saying something about masculinity with this novel. Marcos is deeply bothered that no one gave him condolences after his son passed, all the thoughts and prayers were given to his wife. This left a hole in his heart that grew and actually manifested into how he treated the breeding female he owns. I won’t spoil it for you. 

Quotes that I read twice:

“No one can call them humans because that would mean giving them an identity. They call them product, or meat, or food. Except for him; he would prefer not to have to call them by any name.” Page 8.

“He knows she’s serious. And that this conversation is prohibited, that these words could cause major problems for them. But he needs someone to say what no one does.” Page 38.

“She had the human look of a domesticated animal.” Last sentence on the last page in the book.

About the author:

“Agustina Bazterrica is an Argentine novelist and short story writer. She has received several awards for her writing, most notably the prestigious Clarín Novela Prize for her second novel, Tender is the Flesh, which has been translated into nine languages and optioned for television.”

Serena

I was going to start this blog post by taking the meaning of the name “Serena” and making it a big metaphor for the career Serena Williams had, but it turns out her name means peace, calm, and tranquility and I feel like that’s the exact opposite of who we know Serena Williams to be.

In fact, she carved out an identity for herself that can only be described as tenacious, powerful, and aggressive—a force to be reckoned with. Basically, the exact opposite of the meaning of her name. As a lover of literary elements, I love Serena’s irony.

Throughout her 27-year career, the media has attempted to villainize Serena for her aggression (remember the cartoon in 2018?). Instead of changing her ways or catering to the norms of the tennis world, Serena stepped into her power unapologetically. She refused to cater to the fragility of the tennis world. Plus, she was winning. Who could stop her? 

I’m not an avid tennis watcher, yet I have always considered Serena Williams one of my role models. When you think of tennis, what do you see? For me, it’s white skirts, white socks, white shoes, white visors, white officials, white ball boys, and white audiences. Serena Williams was a dark-skinned woman in the midst of all this whiteness. I knew that all too well.

She filled a void in the sports world and young black athletes like me were drawn to who she was and how she operated.

For me, the most powerful aspect of Serena Williams’ being is her physical presence. Something about the way sweat glistens on her skin, the definition of her broad shoulders, or the muscular legs that carry her to victory speaks volumes to me. As female athletes, we build our bodies for performance on the court, on the field, in the pool, and in the ring or rink. But outside of those spaces, the body we worked hard to build is “too muscular,” and “not lady-like.” We struggle to “fit in.” And I’m not speaking in a social sense. I mean, clothes fit weird and next to our non-athlete friends we look dominant. Y’all know what I mean right? (One time I spent hours in the mall trying on dresses that didn’t highlight how big my shoulders were.)

Serena Williams never minimized herself. She carried herself with conviction. She built that body and nobody was going to tear it down. In Serena Williams fashion, all my female athletes reading this right now, push your shoulders back and lift up your chin. Step into your power and embrace the body you built for years.

I think there’s also something to be said about how Serena is still sought after, muscles and all. You could even call her a sex symbol. Remember when Drake rapped, “I’m joking, I mean that thing is poking/ I mean you kinda like that girl that’s in the U.S Open?” Or in 2011 when he tweeted, “@serenawilliams I cannot wait to put it on you and make you sweat……….during our match this weekend?” 

Now more than ever, I’ve needed to be reminded of the beauty in strength. I’m a firm believer that real men won’t shy away from a strong woman (aka a woman that holds their own in the weight room). Serena Williams is the blueprint for beauty in strength. Your favorite rapper, Drake, sure thought so.

My hope for Serena Williams’ retirement is first and foremost peace. Without the media’s watchful and judgemental eye, she has the chance to live out the true meaning of her name. (See what I did there? I had to fit it in somewhere!) 

Next, I hope for a period of re-branding or self-worth identification outside of tennis. There’s value in being a mother, value in having a platform to speak on important issues, in charity, in womanhood, in being black, in intelligence…

Serena now has the space to explore other avenues and to show the world who she is outside of tennis. 

Selfishly, I think I am more excited for this new era of Serena than any match or set or whatever they call it in tennis.